


The Seaweed Is Always Greener

by goseaward



Category: BBC Radio 1 RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - The Little Mermaid Fusion, M/M, Modern Retelling, Seaside
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-30 14:36:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10878846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goseaward/pseuds/goseaward
Summary: The fairytales are pretty clear: Don't go near land. Don't go near humans. Definitely don't fall in love. And whatever you do, don't ask the Sea Witch for help.A modern-day Little Mermaid AU.





	The Seaweed Is Always Greener

**Author's Note:**

> See [this tag](http://linvro.tumblr.com/tagged/melanie) for linvro's wonderful Big Bang photosets at her tumblr!
> 
> Thanks to linvro for the amazing, perfect photosets, eloiserummaging for the fantastic beta, itinerant_vae for the extremely helpful Britpick, hllangel for basically re-plotting the ending for me when I was stuck plus general sounding board duties, and junkshopdisco for some very on-point tips about British holiday hotspots. Any remaining errors are my own. Finally, thanks to the mods for running another great Big Bang challenge!

  
  
([original post](http://linvro.tumblr.com/post/160539783440/merman-art-by-moondragonwings), merman art by [Moondragonwings](http://moondragonwings.deviantart.com/art/Sweep-331284764))

* * *

Prologue

* * *

Harry only approached the beach at night, when he couldn't be seen. He liked watching the humans run around, laughing and chattering, the braver ones dipping into the waves even though it was too dark for them to see. Occasionally one of them came out far enough to put Harry in danger and he had to slip back below the water so they wouldn't realise he was there.

Harry's mum didn't like him coming this far south, not when he was still so young, but Gemma had agreed to chaperone him so he could do a boys' holiday. He was going to be on his best behaviour so she wouldn't get in trouble. He loved his sister and his mum more than anybody else in the world, and he wouldn't even try to get onto the sand this year in case it would reflect badly on Gemma—no matter how much he wanted to build a little castle and pretend to be human. Yes, definitely on his best behaviour this year, that was the—oh, what was that?

The humans were coming out into the water. He'd been watching this group for a couple of days; they were loud and friendly and relaxed and one of them was really handsome. This late at night, even if they saw him, it wouldn't be too much trouble: they'd wonder why he was there, but no chance they'd notice his tail. But they were getting steadily louder and moving fast on their awkward-looking legs, and Harry didn't want one of them to fall on him, because that would be harder to hide.

He swam out farther and ducked down, hoping both that they'd be done soon and that they'd stay out forever so he could watch them. Also, he wanted to keep listening to the human music one of them was playing from some device on the beach. He loved mermaid music, but he'd been obsessed for years with human music, the snippets he caught when he got closer to humans than his mum would have liked him to. What would it be like to make music like that?

"Dance with me, Gellz!" the handsome one said as they all got deeper into the water. He sounded friendly.

"You'll get us all killed," a woman with long blonde hair said.

There was a dog on the beach staring right at Harry. It hadn't barked, though. He waved to it and moved closer to the centre of the group, so it looked like the dog was staring at them instead.

"Is that a commentary on my dancing?" the handsome guy said. Some of the others laughed.

"It wasn't before, but now it is!"

"Come on, this is a banger. You've got to, like—" The handsome guy splashed around maniacally. Harry grinned to himself.

"I've got to drink this beer, is what I've got to do." The other man in the party was holding a bottle, Harry noticed. He frowned—there were too many of those in the ocean already. But the man was heading back for the sand. The dog sniffed his feet when he was all the way out of the water.

Humans were so interesting. Harry hoped Gemma and Liam and Niall weren't getting worried yet. He thought he had a few minutes, anyway.

"Shake that ass!" a shorter woman yelled. She had a different accent—American, Harry thought. He'd met a couple of American mermaids, but mostly he knew it from the programmes he watched sometimes through the windows of houseboats.

It was silent for a few minutes except for the laughter as they jumped over the waves and splashed each other. Harry was thinking of leaving when they started talking again. "Shopping tomorrow, then?" the blonde woman said.

"Sure. We can get a hula skirt for that one."

The handsome one did another shimmying step, and then, with a great splash, fell down completely into the water.

"Jesus, Nick," the shorter woman laughed. When he didn't surface, the laughter stopped, and the women started looking around. "Nick?"

Shit, shit, shit. This was exactly like the fairy stories Harry's mum had used to tell him. No way he should go rescue the human stupid enough to drown. But he'd sounded so happy, and could Harry really let him drown, when he could—

The water was shallow where they were, but it was dark. Maybe they wouldn't see him.

There was increasing cacophony as the others yelled and tried to find their friend under the water. The one on the beach was calling for help, Harry thought, but it would be too late. Harry couldn't let it happen. He ducked under the water, close to the bottom, and skimmed further in to where the handsome guy—Nick—had fallen over.

He was right there, in Harry's path, thrashing, and Harry had never felt so relieved. He'd been dragged just far enough away from his friends to be impossible to find in the dark, and he couldn't seem to figure out which way was up. Harry grabbed him around the waist and dragged him sideways and up, trying to guess how long he had until Nick would absolutely need to surface again, and weighing that against the need to not be seen when they did come up. Luckily he was a fast swimmer. Nick had figured out he was being helped and was holding onto Harry in turn, which made it easier, too, for Harry to get them far enough down the beach that Nick's friends wouldn't see them before he brought them both up.

Instantly Nick was coughing and gasping, wiping his eyes like he wasn't used to having water in them. Harry swam for the beach with Nick still clinging to him—Harry thought he should be able to drop him off in the shallows and head back out before anyone had a good look at him. Except—Nick. Now that Harry wasn't swimming at speed he could take a moment to look at him, his big friendly face and barely-seen long eyelashes in the dim light from the houses near the beach. 

"Oh my God," Nick was saying between gasps. "Thank you. Oh my god."

Harry heard a jingle, then looked up to see the stubby brown dog trailing its lead and standing just out of the water, barking. "Thurston!" Nick said when he saw it. It was probably shallow enough now, Harry thought, and helped him stand.

"Thank you so much," Nick said. "Can I—"

But other people were approaching, that half-familiar commotion of Nick's friends, and Harry ducked back under the water and swam away before anyone could see him better.

* * *

"He just looked so friendly," Harry said mournfully.

"Was it his eyelashes?" Niall said.

Harry smiled at him. "No, but I'm glad you've been listening. He also had very nice eyelashes."

"Also legs," Liam said. "I think that's a very important piece of this. The legs."

Harry hummed thoughtfully. "Do you think legs have erogenous zones on them?" That gave him some nice mental images, even if he also had to listen to Niall and Liam making fake vomiting noises.

"Too bad you can't see him again," Niall said, "or you could ask."

The silence was probably what gave him away. 

Liam swam over so his face was right in Harry's. "What did you do?" he asked, looking concerned. Liam was always so careful about following the rules.

"Nothing," Harry said guiltily.

Liam raised his eyebrows.

Harry sighed and looks around. Gemma wasn't close enough to overhear. "I went swimming near that beach again. I figured out which house he's in. I could see him outside with his friends."

Liam's eyebrows did the disappointed thing. "Are you sure?" he said gently. "It was dark when you saw him."

"I'd know him anywhere."

Niall cuddled up to Harry from the side. It was one of the things Harry liked best about him, the way he was affectionate with Harry like Harry's family was. "You still can't see him, though, Haz," he said. "There are other boys and girls for you. Maybe we'll find somebody for you at that concert tonight. Maybe that French one you liked?"

One of the advantages of this mermaid vacation spot was the music, it was true. And there would be plenty of audience members their age and a little older, like Harry liked. "Maybe," Harry said reluctantly. He didn't think anyone could make him forget warm, solid, long-eyelashed Nick yet, but for Niall and Liam, he'd try. He was only sad Louis and Zayn hadn't been able to come along—the four of them could have definitely distracted him.

Niall grinned. "Good!" he said. "We'll find another crush for you yet. Or maybe somebody for Liam here."

It wasn't a crush, Harry thought mulishly. He knew crushes, they were silly and fun and he usually got kisses out of them because he was a lucky boy. This felt—different.

"Pretty girl for Leemo," Harry said. "I think we can do that."

Maybe there was another way. If he was brave enough to try. If Gemma did't kill him and if he was willing to do that to her. If he left Liam and Niall behind—

It seemed mad. But he had always wondered what it would be like, being on land. Meeting humans. What if they were all as great as Nick?

"Come on," Liam said. "Let's try for a good spot in the band shell."

Harry recognised it for the distraction it was, but they hadn't come all the way here to listen to Harry mope. "Sure," he said, and let himself be pulled along.

* * *

He waited until Gemma had gone to sleep. Then he swam out to the sea witch's lair.

He didn't have to go in, he told himself. He was just casing the joint, like that detective from the black-and-white film he'd watched before they swam down here. He was just...seeing what it would be like. If he decided he wanted to, well, he could come back.

But he knew even before Louis Walsh saw him that he was going in.

"Hullo, Harry," Louis said, oily. "Didn't know you were down here."

"Lad's holiday," Harry said automatically.

"Good, good. Here to see our Simon?" If anything, Louis was Simon's, not the other way around, but Harry just smiled. "He's in a good mood this evening!" Louis chirped, nodding at Harry. "Good luck. I'll see you."

"See you," Harry echoed.

No way Simon hadn't heard that. Harry swam forward and through the opening into Simon's cave.

He was lounging on a stone shelf, one tentacle idly rearranging seashells on the sandy floor as he read through a scroll. "Harry," he said, sounding surprised and pleased as he put the scroll down. "What can I do for you?"

Harry wasn't fooled—Simon was devious as they came. He'd probably read that scroll a million times and just scanned through it over and over so he looked busy when people come in. "Hullo, Simon," he said. "How are you?"

Simon's smile was all teeth. "Enjoying my summer holidays."

"Good," Harry said. He swallowed. He wasn't sure how to ask.

"Would this surprise visit have anything to do with the daring rescue a few nights ago?"

"Oh." That was a surprise. How had Simon heard about that? "Um, yeah."

"You want to go on land," Simon said, smiling wider.

"Yeah. Uh, yes."

Simon slid off the shelf and swam towards him. It was always nauseating, all those tentacles, the slick black hide coming further up his stomach than a merman's tail. Harry really didn't like Simon Cowell. "We might be able to arrange something," Simon said. "I'd need payment, of course."

Harry's stomach sank. "Of course." Gemma had most of the money, and it was probably not enough, even if they went home straight afterwards.

"Oh, don't worry." Simon turned so he glided past Harry to another, higher, shelf. He started taking down a few jars. "I don't mean money. I meant in trade."

"I don't have anything to trade, either," Harry said.

"I was thinking more along the lines of an opportunity." Simon let the jars float to the ground so his tentacles could take them, then selected a scroll from a pile. "I'd still love to hire you as a singer."

Harry chewed on his lip. He wanted that. But not with Simon, and not yet. "Mum says I can't until I've finished school," he said.

"And what would she think about this little adventure?"

She wouldn't like it. "I'll be careful."

"Hmm." Simon swam deeper into the cave. "Come along, Harry." That wasn't a command Harry should ignore, even though the deeper darkness made his stomach hurt. "How about a bet, then," Simon said. "The traditional one. You get your human to fall in love with you, and I'll consider the debt paid. He doesn't fall in love with you, I get what I want, and you come to sing for me."

"Oh," Harry said, the thought hitting him right in the gut. Love. He could—maybe it was love, what he was feeling for Nick. Maybe he could get Nick to feel that for him. Could he? 

Simon stopped when he got to the next chamber of the cave. Harry hovered in the door, not willing to go deeper into the room, which was laced with sea anemones and gave him a bad feeling. How did Simon keep them alive so far north? "One more thing," Simon said. "I'll need collateral." 

"Oh?" Harry said. Shit, what was collateral? He didn't like the way this was going, Simon using big words on him and trying hard to seem friendly. It put Harry's hackles up, like he was trying to take advantage.

"Yes. I think...your voice. Since it's what I want from you anyway."

"What about my voice?" It cracked as he said that, and Harry cleared his throat. He couldn't wait for that to settle, so he could sing even better.

Simon picked up a shell from the floor, a conch with a green dappled pattern. "I'll take your voice and put it in here. You get it back at the end of the week, one way or another."

"But how will I talk?"

"You won't." Simon started dumping the contents of some of the jars into a shallow depression in the cave floor, right in the centre of the chamber. The substances were heavier than the water and sank to the bottom of the depression, a disturbing pulpy mess.

Harry tried to imagine not talking for a week. "Then how will I get Nick to fall in love with me?"

"Nick, is it?" Simon gave him a smile almost as greasy as his concoction. "Think back on your relationships, Harry. Was it your sparkling conversation they were attracted to?"

Oh. That hurt. Harry knew he was cute—he could look down at his own body and think, _yeah, I would_ —but surely that wasn't all? 

"Don't you want to try being human, Harry?" Simon said. 

Harry nodded. There was something fascinating about the mixture Simon was making. He spun around, stirring it with the currents from his tentacles, and it started to glow. His voice became more resonant. "Here's the contract," he said, whipping the scroll so it rolled out across the chamber towards Harry. "Sign at the bottom."

"How do I—"

There was a stick at his side suddenly, tipped in soft green algae. Harry wasn't sure where it came from. Simon nodded at it, and Harry took it, then paused.

"It's a limited time offer," Simon said. "Sign it in the next ten seconds or leave."

Harry took eight seconds to think about it, and then he signed.

* * *

* * *

Day 1

* * *

Harry woke just after dawn. He'd apparently been sleepy enough to miss the true dawn, the sun's first peek over the horizon, but it wasn't long before it was too bright for him to keep sleeping in the chair he was sitting on. A real chair, a dry chair, not something wet and soggy because it had been thrown in the ocean. At least he could investigate the chair until Nick and his friends got up.

He liked human things and all, but it was weird to be spending the morning after he'd made such a momentous decision exploring furniture all by himself.

He thought it was a few hours before he heard anything from inside the house. The first noise was a loud grinding sound, and he fell off the chair because he was so surprised and managed to pull the chair down on top of him as he went. The crash wasn't very loud—he'd just fallen a short distance onto the decking, after all—but it was followed by a suspicious silence emanating from the house, and by the time he'd managed to pick himself up, right the chair, and sit down again, the dog from the night on the beach was sitting next to him wagging its tail. Harry reached down and touched it gently between the ears: its fur was short and bristly and dry. Harry stroked the dog and it closed its eyes and thumped its tail. A face appeared at one of the windows, then disappeared again, and then he heard a woman's voice yelling, "Nick, I think you forgot something!" loud enough to wake...something hard to wake up. Zayn.

Soon enough, the doors to the house opened, and standing there was the tiny woman with bright orange hair and—oh.

Harry's description of "friendly" had been an understatement. Harry couldn't believe he'd missed it, even as dark as it had been the night he rescued him. Nick was so gorgeous he knocked the breath right out of Harry again. 

"I definitely did not forget anything," he was saying. He was looking at Harry's legs. Harry had quite good-looking legs, he thought, once the magic had finished, although it was strange that certain normally-internal parts of him were now permanently external. Then Nick's gaze made it up to Harry's face and his eyes widened. "Oh," he said.

The orange-haired woman hit him on the arm.

"Ow!" Nick said. "Like I'd leave a naked man outside the house. No, it's the kid who saved me the other night. Hey, are you okay?" The last was clearly addressed to Harry. 

Harry cursed his lack of voice and nodded.

"What's your name?" the orange-haired woman said.

How could he tell them without a voice? Harry gestured at his throat helplessly.

"Great, he doesn't speak English," Nick said.

Harry frowned at him, offended.

"Do you understand English?" Orange Hair said. That's right, she was the one with that flat American accent.

Harry nodded emphatically.

"Are you okay?" Nick said. "It's just that naked men don't turn up on my doorstep all that often."

Orange Hair made a funny face at that.

Harry shrugged. He wasn't hurt or anything, but he'd be a lot better if he was closer to Nick. Actually— He stood up and walked towards them.

"Clothes!" Nick said, vaguely panicked. "Clothes. Let's get you some clothes. Um—follow me." 

"Yes, please invite the strange naked man into the house," Orange Hair said.

Harry stepped inside and trailed Nick across the floor and then up the stairs. It was very white inside the house, with lots of weirdly dry seashells. Harry hoped they'd been taken after their owners had stopped using them. Nick went into a room with some chests of drawers and a real human bed, a big soft platform thing that, up close, didn't look as comfortable as Harry's stone hollow at home. The dog climbed up on the bed and sat there watching him, tail still wagging. 

Nick opened one of the drawers and pulled out some brightly-coloured fabric, then thrust it at Harry. "Start with that," he said. "I'll, um, I'll be in the hall." He walked out of the room again.

Harry wanted to follow him, but it seemed like he'd wanted to leave Harry alone to put the clothes on. Harry grabbed the item on top and shook it out. Definitely a shirt. Harry turned it a few different ways before he figured out where to put his arms. The pants were even harder; he put them on wrong twice before he had them the right way up and the right way round. The last garment was easier, since it had two obvious holes for his legs. The clothing was looser on him than it was on Nick, but that was probably because Nick was bigger than him—oh, these were Nick's clothes, right. That felt nice.

Harry trotted out of the room and tapped Nick on the shoulder.

"Oh! Good. You're done. Have you eaten yet?" Nick said. "Of course you haven't eaten, what am I saying, you were naked in the garden." He rolled his eyes up. "Come along, I think Aimee did some toast." He started down the stairs, head half-turned to see if Harry was following.

Of course Harry was.

There were more chairs downstairs, and Nick gestured to them before he went into another room. Harry guessed he was meant to sit down. The table was made of wood, the grain all weird and small, maybe because it was dry. Harry knew, logically, that everything on land was dry, but he'd never thought through what it would mean for things to be dry all the time. At least his human skin didn't seem to mind it as much as his mermaid skin did when he floated half out of the water for too long. Harry traced idle patterns on the wood until Nick came back in with three plates and some real, genuine, human forks and knives. The orange-haired woman—Aimee, must be—followed with three mugs and a couple of smaller dishes.

Harry watched as Nick and Aimee used the knives to cut off pieces of something soft and white and scrape them across the—must be toast—on their plates. Harry followed suit, awkwardly, he was sure. Nick didn't seem to notice, but Aimee was giving him strange looks.

"So, did you come here just for our Grimmy?" Aimee said.

Harry blinked at her, not sure what that was.

She pointed her knife at Nick. "That's Grimmy, by the way. Or Nick. Grimmy when he's being an arse."

Harry frowned, then nodded. He wasn't sure why she thought Nick was being an arse.

"You could've stuck around after you rescued me, instead of turning up naked in the garden," Nick said. "Why were you naked, by the way?

Harry shrugged. He wasn't sure how he would have explained any of that, even if he'd been able to talk.

"The rescue was probably past his curfew," Aimee said. "How old are you, anyway?"

Harry looked around, trying to figure out how to say that.

"Oh, for Christ's sake!" Aimee pulled a silver rectangle out of her housecoat pocket. She pressed a button on the side and suddenly the front lit up; oh, it was a mobile. Harry had seen lots of ads for those. She did something else and then slid it across the table. Harry stared down at the thing. It had little boxes on the bottom with letters and numbers in it. He reached out and tried to press the 1, but his fingers were too clumsy and he hit both the 1 and the 2. He frowned.

"You're not twelve," Nick said with certainty.

Harry shook his head.

"Just hit the delete key, it's fine."

Delete? Harry continued frowning at the screen. 

"Okay, he's fine with nudity and he doesn't do technology. Nick, I think you got rescued by a feral." Aimee snatched up the silver rectangle and bustled out of the room, a small orange tornado, then came back with something flat and yellow and a real, genuine, human pencil, which she thrust onto the table in front of Harry. "Write it down."

Harry picked up the pencil. Wow. So the yellow stuff must be paper. He'd always wondered what they'd feel like: smooth and dry, apparently. He dragged the black end of the pencil along the yellow paper, weirded out by the vibrations he could feel as the two dry surfaces rubbed against each other, and slowly traced out: _17_.

When he finished the 7, both Nick and Aimee exploded into some kind of noise. Harry watched them both, sure his eyes were bugged out enough they were almost falling out of his head. What was so wrong with being 17?

"—going to be arrested!" Nick finished, head in his hands, while Aimee cackled.

"I don't think we can be arrested for letting a curious teenager come in when he asked," she said. "Although who knows what his parents will do." She laughed again when Nick moaned in despair.

Confused, Harry looked around for something to do while they talked. Breakfast. Right. He picked up one of the brown slabs from his plate and bit into it. 

Holy _shit_. 

He stared at the food in his hand. How could something that looked like that taste so good?

He wolfed down the rest of it as quickly as he could, and only realised as he was licking the crumbs off his fingers that both Nick and Aimee were staring at him again.

"You like toast, then?" Nick said.

Harry nodded as big as he could.

Aimee glanced at Nick. "Maybe it's the first time he's had solid food."

"Aimee can make you more toast if you want," Nick said helpfully. Aimee glared at him, for some reason.

Harry shrugged and ate his other piece of toast. 

Nick and Aimee were eating theirs, too, but at a much more sedate pace. Was all human food this good? Were they spoiled like this every day? Harry licked the crumbs off his fingers again. His mum always said that was rude, but she'd never had food like this.

"Could you write down your name, too?" Nick said suddenly.

Oh! That was a good idea. Harry nodded vigorously and then traced out _Harry Styles_ on the paper.

"Harry Styles," Aimee said thoughtfully. "Sounds English."

Harry nodded.

"Are you here on holiday?" Nick said.

Harry liked when Nick talked to him, because he could look at him longer. He liked Aimee, too, but Nick was so handsome. He nodded yes to the question.

"With your family?"

Nod.

"Are they wondering where you went?"

Harry shook his head. He was sure Gemma was wondering, actually, but if he said yes, he thought Nick would try to figure out where he'd come from, and he wanted to stay here.

"You're sure?"

Harry nodded again.

"You can hang out with us if you want," Nick said. "I mean—I wouldn't mind, anyway."

"You get to be in charge of him, then," Aimee said dubiously.

"Harry looks like he can take care of himself."

Harry nodded vigorously.

"I mean, he rescued me already, after all. He can't be too much of a disaster."

Harry laughed soundlessly. Oh—that was weird. He didn't want to do that again, except that he wanted Nick to be funny. Funny people were the best. Nick seemed funny.

Another person came walking down the stairs, the tall woman with long blonde hair that Harry also recognised from when he was spying on them. Or—that didn't sound good. When he'd been indulging a minor interest in watching humans. She stopped and blinked when she saw the three of them at the table.

"Harry, this is Gillian, another friend of ours. Gillian, this is Harry," Aimee said. "He doesn't talk, he just stares adoringly at Nick."

Nick turned red. "He saved my life, I think we can feed him breakfast."

"Okay," Gillian said, with the same kind of dubious tone Aimee had been using.

Well, he'd have to show them how proper adult and grown-up he could be. He wanted to be friends with all of them—his first humans!—even if he especially wanted to be friends and more with Nick. He waved at Gillian and she smiled back, laughing. 

"Is there any coffee left?" 

"Yeah, in the pot."

Gillian disappeared into the other room—kitchen, okay—and came back with a mug. Oh right—Harry had one of those too. He picked it up and looked at the contents: thin and watery, brown. Human drink. Interesting.

He took a sip.

* * *

"Here," Henry said, passing Harry a shot glass full of juice.

Harry rolled his eyes. He wasn't going to make the same mistake twice. But it felt nice to have a kind of inside joke with his new friends—Nick's friends. He let the rising tide of laughter buoy him up as he drained the shot glass and then made a "come here" gesture with his hand until Henry gave him the full cup.

"Better than coffee, then?" Nick said from beside him.

Harry raised his eyebrows and nodded emphatically.

"You know, he doesn't talk and his conversation is still more interesting than some of the boys you bring home," Gillian said.

"I didn't bring him home! He just showed up!" Nick said. Harry patted him on the knee in understanding.

He sipped his juice as he listened to the others talk. It was strange being on this side of the beach, with the lights behind him and the ocean a dark, moving thing in the distance. The sand felt different, too. He should have guessed that, he supposed; he was permanently dry now, so even though he'd crawled up on deserted beaches before, it still felt different with his human body. And he hadn't ever tried beaching himself when his friends were around, so being surrounded by people—even humans, not merpeople—made it friendlier. Even the dog, Thurston, who was sitting next to Harry made everything seem better.

And Nick, who'd been lovely, letting Harry trail him around all day and not asking again when he needed to be home. He was so funny, too, and Harry was sad he couldn't laugh at him as much as he deserved. Or not out loud, anyway. He hoped his smile and silent laughter were enough.

Nick's friends had been nice to him as well. Henry, Gillian, Aimee. Nick especially sounded like home, though, like maybe he came from somewhere on the Mersey, near where Harry'd grown up. Maybe he'd been one of the boys on the riverbank when Harry swam up it as a kid for fun, tasting the fresh water and dodging the funny new fish and all the humans' boats. Maybe some of the programmes Harry had watched through windows had been programmes Nick had watched for real in his human house. Really, Nick was perfect for him, and this was the best decision he'd ever made.

Turning, he caught Nick's eyes flicking away from him, and he smiled. That was fine. More than fine. Nick was shy around him now, but Harry knew he could win him over; he always did. He pushed some sand over Nick's leg and Nick squawked at him and kicked to get the sand off. Harry turned back around to the rest of the group and grinned over the rim of his cup.

Between Henry and Aimee, he saw something breaking the water. It was far, and he didn't think anyone else would notice anything out of the ordinary, but he thought he saw Niall and Liam's heads bobbing gently in the moonlight. Good: they could tell Gemma where he went. He missed them, but this was such an adventure he couldn't be sad he was doing it. He pushed his toes into the sand and grinned in general good cheer.

* * *

"You're not going home, then," Nick said finally, when the others had gone off to bed and Harry was still leaning against the door jamb of Nick's bedroom.

Harry shook his head.

"Well—I guess you can stay here," Nick said. Harry grinned and came over to hug him. Nick stayed very stiff in his arms. "Anyway, if I kicked you out, you'd probably just kip in the garden and give Aimee a fright in the morning. Here, let's get you some pyjamas."

More clothing. Oh well. Maybe it was rude to be naked or something among humans. He'd never seen any humans nude except through windows; he'd thought it would be okay to go without clothing indoors, but apparently not. Maybe that's why Aimee's reaction this morning had been so surprised, if nobody was ever naked in front of anybody else. It was a shame, too. Harry liked the way he looked. He flopped onto Nick's bed and watched him rummage through drawers. When he found what he was looking for, Nick threw the extra clothing onto Harry's face, which made Harry laugh, silently, again. "You can put those on and I'll go put some blankets on the sofa," which, oh. Harry made a face for Nick's benefit and stretched out on Nick's bed to make a point. Nick almost looked like he was hesitating, but then he grabbed Harry's ankle and yanked him half off the bed so Harry overbalanced and landed on the floor. He laughed at Harry when Harry frowned up at him, offended. "Bed's mine. You'll like the sofa, it's well comfy."

Harry sighed, took the pyjamas, and went to the bathroom to change. 

The sofa _was_ well comfy, unfortunately. Harry still wasn't used to soft things that stayed soft, and the same shape, even when you put your weight on them for a while. He bade Nick good night, watching Nick's face as he left and turned out the light, and then he fell asleep and dreamt of legs and sand and happiness.

* * *

  
([original post](http://linvro.tumblr.com/post/160539780825))

* * *

Day 2

* * *

He could hear voices in the kitchen when he woke up. He'd slept in, he could tell, but he needed to catch up from his night on the chair. It wouldn't have been comfortable no matter what, but it was especially bad with his legs so new, because he couldn't figure out where to put them at first. At least today they'd left him alone in the lounge to sleep.

"There's obviously some reason he doesn't want to go home," Nick was saying when Harry woke up enough to distinguish the words. "It can't hurt to keep an eye on him until we know what's going on."

"He showed up without a scrap of clothing. No money, nothing," Aimee said. "Something horrible happened and you're just going to wait and see?"

"Maybe it was a dare. We don't know that it was something bad."

Harry stretched and rolled to his feet, still unsteady after not using his legs all night. He made some noise going into the kitchen so they wouldn't think he'd been eavesdropping.

"Morning, bedhead," Aimee said.

Nick laughed. "Wow, that's even worse than Gillian's."

Harry frowned at them until Nick came over and tugged at his curls. It felt nice having Nick's fingers there, and he turned his head into the touch, but Nick dropped his hand to Harry's shoulder instead. "Maybe we should—uh—let you have a shower?" Nick said. "I guess you'll need more clothes, huh."

Harry nodded yes to the clothes. He didn't think he needed a shower.

"Give him some of Gillian's," Aimee said, "he looks like he's swimming in yours."

Nick grinned.

So Harry ended up with another pile of borrowed clothing and a bathroom full of bottles of stuff he didn't know exactly how to use. He'd seen most of them in adverts, so he had a vague idea, but he spent rather too long in the shower, having fun with all the soaps and shampoos and, well, other things. He found some deodorant next to the sink—he'd realised the reason for Nick's comment when he took his top off—and stumbled out of the bathroom nearly into Nick's arms. He was still pink-cheeked from his shower activities (certain things worked more or less the same, it turned out), and maybe it was more obvious than he'd thought, because Nick blinked and steered him right for the kitchen without looking at him again.

They'd made him a giant tower of toast and pre-buttered it too. Henry and Gillian were there as well and Harry got the curious sense they'd heard something and had made sure to be there to watch. The other food they'd had the day before had also been tasty, but toast was still the best, and not, Harry thought, just because it was the first human food he'd had. 

"Maybe he's suffered a life without carbs," Henry said.

"Maybe he likes toast," Nick said. "That's not weird. I love me some toast."

Harry shoved half a piece in his mouth. Nick stared and didn't finish his thought.

"He's a growing boy," Aimee said.

Harry grinned at her. He was! He was still getting longer and broader. He liked it. It meant he was growing up, getting closer to everything he wanted out of life. Though a week ago he couldn't have imagined how good things could get: human food and legs and maybe love. Harry turned his grin on Nick and went for another piece of toast.

A timer went off, and Gillian went into the kitchen and came back with a pan of scrambled eggs and another of bacon, and, well, maybe breakfast would always be Harry's favourite meal.

"Are we still shopping today?" Aimee asked, once they'd all finished, except for Henry who was sipping a third cup of coffee. "Or just another beach day?" Her eyes didn't linger on Harry, but he felt guilty anyway, that maybe he'd been disrupting their plans. The others could do what they wanted—he might keep Nick, though. Or maybe not. He only had a week, but he could let Nick go off with his friends for a few hours. 

Maybe.

"Shopping," Gillian said.

"Harry, what do you think?" Nick said.

Harry grinned at him. He liked when Nick paid attention to him. He nodded vigorously, and Nick smiled, in the crinkles around his eyes and the corners of his mouth. "Shopping," he said. "Harry, we'll have to find you some shoes."

It turned out Nick's fit Harry, which pleased him more than he wanted to say, even if he'd been able to talk. 

"He's got feet as big as yours," Henry observed.

Harry smiled at him, too. He also liked when people noticed connections between him and Nick; it made him feel special too. Nick was glaring at Henry for some reason, though, so Harry knocked their shoulders together and made a silly face to get him to smile again.

"Good lord, that's frightening," Aimee said.

Harry took a few steps, getting used to having something on his feet. It wasn't as bad as his first few minutes on land, but it still felt weird. He stepped out the door and walked on the pavement; that was different, harder.

"Anxious to go?" Nick said, catching up with him and setting off towards the car. Harry brushed the back of his hand across Nick's, but Nick didn't take it. He did turn to look at Harry, though, and smile. "Have you gone shopping here yet?" Harry shook his head. "You'll like it, I think. Lots to see."

As if Harry would be looking at anything but Nick.

* * *

Harry pulled a floppy straw hat with a broad brim and a big green bow off a rack and put it on his head. He turned to Nick and pulled the brim down on the sides, like the stars he'd seen in old films, and tilted his head to the side, grinning.

Nick sighed at him. "How do you do that? It ought to look ridiculous," Nick said. Harry didn't believe his irritation for a minute. "How about this one for me?" He picked up a baseball cap with embroidered palm trees.

Harry grabbed it out of his hands and put it firmly back. He shook his head very slowly at Nick.

"Okay. Then what would you suggest, my little fashion pixie?"

Harry twisted his mouth up and browsed through the hats in the corner of the shop. He handed Nick a hot pink plastic visor, only half kidding, and a bucket-shaped navy canvas sailor's hat with white cord trim. 

"Yes," Nick said slowly to the visor, "I can see how you'd have missed my giant forehead, but that does need to be covered, too."

Harry made a sad, disapproving face at him and put his hand on Nick's forehead. He liked Nick's forehead (he liked all of Nick). He'd kiss it, except that when he'd tried that yesterday Nick had ducked away from him, and it would be too humiliating to repeat that in public. 

Nick raised his eyebrows so the skin wrinkled under Harry's hand. It felt weird, so he laughed and took his hand away, and Nick put on the navy hat. It didn't look bad, although Nick didn't have a head for hats, Harry had to admit.

"Guess that's okay, since you're not making a face at me," Nick said.

Harry leered at him (or tried to leer—it was hard to take himself seriously when he did that). Nick laughed and turned to the man sitting behind the till. "Uh, this one, and that thing on his head, too," Nick said.

Harry turned red. He hadn't meant to make Nick buy him something. He felt bad enough that he was eating all their food and wearing all their clothing. 

They walked out of the shop and back into the bright sunshine. Harry grabbed Nick's hand and kissed the back of it, trying to convey his thanks with his eyes. Nick's fingers tensed in Harry's and he let Harry's hand go, but he didn't snatch it away, at least, just a sort of gentle release. "You don't have to thank me," he said. "I promise you I can afford a hat."

Harry bumped their shoulders together anyway.

They stopped at some shops with toys (gifts for Nick's godson) and jams (for his mum) and were making their way back to the car when suddenly Harry heard his name in a very familiar voice.

He turned, stunned, as Niall and Liam came barrelling out of the crowd. How were they here? How were they _human?_ "I thought that was you!" Niall said, panting—Harry wondered how far they'd run. "How's the adventure going?"

Harry gestured at Nick, who was looking notably discombobulated when Harry turned to him.

"Oh, right!" Niall stuck his hand out. "Niall Horan. That's Liam. Nice to meet you." Harry was almost knocked over by how familiar he was. He hadn't realised how alone he'd felt, away from everything he knew, even with Nick and his friends to amuse him.

"Nick Grimshaw," Nick said. "I didn't realize you were Irish," he said to Harry.

"He's not," Liam said. 

"You must have been taking that vocal rest very seriously, Harry," Niall said.

Harry tried to convey seriousness so Nick wouldn't question that.

"Oh, you're a singer?" Nick said.

Harry nodded.

Niall rolled his eyes. "I'd ask what you'd been discussing if he didn't know that, but I'm not sure I'd want to know."

Liam laughed. Harry tried to look offended, even though he could feel himself turning red, and he stole a glance at Nick, who still looked...odd. "We've been having a great time," Nick said. "He's got very expressive eyebrows. It's like I can read his mind."

"Guess we're not getting him back yet, then," Liam said, fake-heartily. Probably sounded real-heartily to Nick, though. Liam wasn't a great bluffer most of the time, but being friends with the rest of them had trained him into an ability to convey "everything's fine" to authority figures.

"Oh," Nick said. He looked at Harry. "Um—"

Harry tried to look hopeful but nonthreatening.

"I mean, we can take him back, of course," Niall said. "Love spending time with our Harry."

"It's up to you," Nick said to Harry. "I don't mind having you around more, if you'd like."

Harry scooted closer to Nick, and everyone laughed at him, so that was all right.

"Let's have lunch tomorrow, though, Harry," Liam said. "Then we can give you back your wallet, and maybe some clothes?"

Harry nodded emphatically.

"Um, should we come to you? Or can you come back into Rye?" Niall said.

Harry looked at Nick. He wasn't sure he could ask them to drive him back here, but he also wasn't sure how Niall and Liam would get out to the beach.

"I'll bring him back, don't worry," Nick said, with a soft reassuring look at Harry. Harry was sure he was glowing as he turned to nod emphatically at Niall and Liam. "Where should I bring him?"

"We're at the Mermaid Inn," Liam said.

It was a good thing Harry wasn't able to make noise, because the bark of laughter he let out would surely have captured Nick's attention if it had been out loud.

"Thanks, Nick!" Niall looked around. "Guess we'll be seeing you, then. Have fun. Don't get into trouble," he said to Harry.

No, indeed. He was in enough trouble as it was.

"You don't have to go to lunch, you know," Nick told him once they were back in the car. Harry looked at him in surprise. "If there's something wrong, if they're—were they bullying you, is that why you didn't have any clothes?"

Harry frowned and shook his head emphatically, as much for the benefit of Nick's friends as Nick himself, since he could tell they were watching. He made a heart with his hands.

"You—love them?" Nick guessed.

Harry nodded.

"Okay. So you're just—"

Harry didn't move his hands.

"—enjoying hanging out with us," Nick said.

If he wanted to think so, Harry was okay with it. He still had almost a week, after all. And Nick had bought him a hat. Harry reached up and felt the bow and then shook his head, enjoying the feel of the hat.

"And you're easily distracted," Nick said with a sigh, but he was smiling too. "All right, young Harold, let's go lie on the beach and do nothing like we were meant to do."

* * *

Harry stretched all out on the sofa so his feet were in Nick's lap. Nick didn't push them off, so Harry settled in more, getting comfortable, closing his eyes to listen to the conversation he knew would develop.

Something hit him in the stomach, punching the breath out of him. It would have been a grunt if he could make any noise at all. When he opened his eyes, Nick was looking at him and laughing, which made Harry feel all warm. Aimee, though, was settling into an armchair on the other side of Nick, raising her eyebrows at the items she'd dumped on Harry.

A pad and a pencil. Right. Harry had been trying to put off having to write again. Most mermaids learnt so they could read human signs and communicate, if they had to, with the few fisherman who still remembered and believed the legends, but it was so hard to make permanent letters under the water that the most Harry usually did was scratch in the sand with a stick. Everyone up here had obviously had more practice.

"So those were your friends," Aimee said.

Harry nodded.

"They're the ones you're here on holiday with?" Nick said.

Harry nodded again.

"Just them?"

Harry hesitated, and Aimee jumped on him. "Who else?"

 _My sister_ , he wrote carefully, then held it up.

Nick looked very serious when he saw it. "Is she—" He put one hand on Harry's ankle, rubbing soothingly, and Harry let his eyes half-close with how good it felt. "Does she treat you all right?" he said. "Is she the reason you left?"

Shocked, Harry opened his eyes wide and shook his head. _NO!!!!_ he wrote, for good measure, on the pad.

"Isn't she worried about where you are?" Aimee asked.

 _Knows_ , Harry wrote. She must. She'd been keeping track of the money for all three of them, as chaperone, so if Niall and Liam were on land with clothes and money, she at least had to know about it.

Thurston came into the room and sat on Aimee's feet. Harry smiled at the dog, but Aimee wasn't deterred. "And she's fine with you crashing a house party of people a decade older than you?"

Harry shrugged. 

Aimee didn't look pleased with that answer. "So nothing bad happened. Nobody kicked you out or hurt you. You just...wanted to come over here and stay with us, so you did."

Harry nodded. It didn't sound great when she put it like that, but he couldn't tell her the whole truth.

"I'm not sure we should let you stay," she continued.

He opened his eyes wide and shook his head violently. 

She threw up her hands. "See? And then you do that!"

What would they believe? He looked at Aimee, down at Thurston, over at Nick, and then—and then that was it. And it was especially good because it was the truth, sort of. He sat up, pad and pencil flying, and cuddled up to Nick; he saw the surprise on Nick's face, and burrowed into Nick's shoulder so he wouldn't have to look at it. Also because of how good it felt. Nick didn't push him away, but he didn't pull him closer, either. Still, Harry didn't move.

"You can deal with this," Aimee said, and then Harry heard footsteps going out of the room, both human and dog.

Nick's arm moved and then his hand was rubbing circles into Harry's back, centred between his shoulder blades. "Hey, hey, it's okay," he said quietly, a little awkwardly. Harry pulled back to look at him. Nick stared at his face, and then looked relieved. "Look, Harry. Okay. You're seventeen, so...whatever you think is going to happen is not going to happen."

Harry huddled in on himself and suppressed the urge to pout so Nick would change his mind He wasn't _that_ young.

"But if you like it here, you can stay, okay? We're going home on Sunday, and I don't know when your sister and your friends are going home, but if you want to be here you can be here. Okay?"

Harry nodded.

"And if you want your friends to hang out with us, we can do that, too. Not, like, all the time, or Aimee might kill me in my sleep, but sometimes. Yeah?"

Harry reached for the pad and pencil on the floor and carefully traced out, _Thank you._

"It's no trouble at all," Nick said. His voice had gone all soft and quiet.

Harry opened his arms and looked hopeful, and Nick breathed out a small laugh and hugged him. "You're a weird kid, you know," he said into Harry's hair, "but I like you anyway. Just so we're clear."

* * *

* * *

Day 3

* * *

The Mermaid Inn didn't have a fancy painted sign out front or anything. Harry was curious what humans thought mermaids looked like, but he guessed he'd have to find out somewhere else. There was a hand-painted note on the white wall between pieces of the black wood framing that said it had been rebuilt in 1420. So that was...Harry gave up on the maths after a moment. A long time ago. Niall and Liam were lurking on the pavement, obviously waiting for him.

"Hiya, Harry! Nick," Niall said as Harry opened the car door.

Liam waved at Nick and handed Harry a carrier bag. Harry glanced inside: clothes, looked like, and a wallet on top. He took the wallet and shoved it in his pocket, then handed the bag over to Nick, who cracked up.

"Ah, now I see what you want me for," he said. "I'm not very good as a pack horse, you know. I'm very weak."

Harry pointed at him, at the bag, and then mimed driving away.

"Yes, I'll take them back for you," Nick said. 

Harry gave him a thumbs up and a big grin.

Niall rolled his eyes. "Stop flirting, Harry, we've places to be!"

Nick looked amused as Harry glared at his so-called friends. Harry tried to step out of the car up onto the pavement, but wobbled and almost fell. Fucking legs.

"I haven't been letting him drink," Nick said. "He's just like that."

Harry steadied himself and glared back into the car.

"Oh, we know," Liam said.

"He's such a klutz!" Niall said. "You've seen how he walks, right?"

Offended, Harry frowned at them. They couldn't be much better at walking than him—he'd been human longest, after all, and legs required some getting used to.

Nick was laughing, though. "Does that explain his handwriting, too?"

He turned his offended glare on Nick: his writing wasn't _that_ bad.

"Yep!" Niall said cheerfully, in a way that made Harry think he thought he was covering for Harry without knowing how.

"Sorry, then," Nick said. "Guess we'll stick with gestures."

Harry made another little shooing motion with his hands.

Nick cracked up again. "I see how wanted I am. You're sure you're okay getting back to the house?"

Harry nodded, and it made him feel warm that Nick looked happy to hear it. He waved and Nick drove off.

"We found this great restaurant," Liam said. "You'll love it. Come on."

Harry trudged along the road with them. They were, in fact, walking more ably than him, which seemed unfair. Niall had little skinny legs, which was kind of funny. Harry tapped him on the shoulder, and when Niall looked at him he pointed down and circled his hands into tiny cylinders. 

Rolling his eyes, Niall said, "Yes, Harry, my legs aren't as nice as yours."

It was much easier to talk without words to people who'd known you as long as Niall and Liam had.

They ordered fish and chips at a little takeaway place—quite a restaurant, Harry reflected—and then Niall and Liam led him back to the Mermaid Inn. Fair enough, they probably shouldn't talk about this in public. Harry half-expected to see Gemma when they opened the door, but it was only an empty room, dark wood panelling and an imposing dark wood bed with a canopy.

They settled on the bed and doled out the food, and then Harry raised his eyebrows at them.

"Nope," Liam said. "First we're going to enjoy this meal, and _then_ we're going to yell at you."

Harry huffed, but he supposed he should have expected that. At least they all ate quickly, he thought as he licked his fingers clean of grease. Fish and chips didn't quite come up to the standards of toast, but Harry was feeling quite happily sated by the time he was done.

"Okay," Niall said finally. "What the fuck, Harry?"

Harry raised his eyebrows and pointed to their legs.

"Yes, we came up to save your arse," Niall said.

"We didn't know for sure you were in trouble," Liam said.

"But chances were good. Seriously, what the fuck?"

Ugh. Harry grabbed a pad of paper and a pen from the nightstand; at least they wouldn't expect him to write neatly. _Nick._

Niall said, "And there aren't, oh, a hundred different fairy tales telling you that was a bad idea?"

Harry shrugged.

"And without your voice, too, Harry," Liam said. "What if he keeps it?"

Harry wrote, _wants the band_

Niall laughed. "Yeah, we figured that out when we had to promise to join you before Simon would turn us human!"

_Simon??_

"How did you think we got here?"

"Gemma's gone back home to see if your mum can do something," Liam said.

Oh shit. If it was that bad— Harry ran his fingers through his hair. But what could his mum do? Oh God, what would his mum do to Gemma?

"Yeah, you fucked up this time, Styles."

Harry shot Niall a look—yes, he realised that—and Niall quieted.

"So, you have until Sunday to make him fall in love with you, right?" At least they were done yelling at him. Busybody Liam was much more familiar to Harry. "What can we do to help?"

Harry flopped back on the bed and raised his hands in the air hopelessly.

"Should we go talk to Nick and tell him how great you are?" Niall said. "I know how you're all shy and retiring about that."

Harry flipped him off.

What _could_ they do to help? Nick had said he liked Harry, but he thought Harry was too young. So he had to seem older. He wasn't sure how to do that. How could he seem older? Having Niall and Liam as friends wasn't enough—he liked them both so much, and they were both older than him, of course, but Harry knew that people older than them thought he was the most mature one. He wasn't sure they were right, but he knew that's what they thought. And Nick was probably old enough that that applied to him. So what else could Harry do? He had been tagging along with Nick, since he didn't know much about the human world. So maybe he needed to be more proactive. But needing to do that didn't help him learn anything new about the human world. He didn't know how to arrange...anything. 

But three heads were better than one. And Niall and Liam had already figured out clothing and food and lodging all on their own.

_Help me arrange date?_

Liam blinked thoughtfully at the words. "Okay," he said. "What's a human date?"

"Supper," Niall said. "And a film, maybe. There's a cinema round the corner."

Harry raised his eyebrows at Niall, impressed.

Liam nodded. "Supper we can do," he said. "And we'll let you decide about the film. When do you want?"

_Not tonight_

"Whenever we can get a reservation somewhere good, then, after tonight?" Liam said.

Harry nodded.

"We'll get on that," Niall said.

_Come visit_

"At the house, you mean?"

Harry nodded again.

Liam said, "When?"

_Tom lunch_

"Great. We'll get to meet your man for real." Liam gave him a soft smile.

"We'll bring some food, since I'm sure you didn't. Probably turned up naked like it was totally normal." Harry didn't react, but Niall still whooped with laughter. "Oh, you did! Classic."

Harry let out a soundless "Oof!" as Niall launched himself on top of Harry for a hug, and then another when Liam jumped on the pile. He hugged them tight, feeling luckier than he deserved.

* * *

"Technically this is 18 plus, but I know the DJ, so we'll get you in anyway. Please don't drink, let's not get anyone in trouble."

Harry nodded and moved closer to Nick as they walked.

Ahead of them, he could see people spilling out of the club they were headed to. He could already hear the music. It was captivating, like the music on the beach the night he rescued Nick. Like the music he heard only once in a while at home, when some teenagers came out far enough on a boat. What if he could make music like that? He'd already planned on being a singer eventually—once he was ready to leave home—but if he had a chance to make music like human music, he wasn't sure he could have even waited that long. He'd have to figure out a way to play it for Niall and Liam, and Louis and Zayn, whether or not he turned back into a mermaid in four days.

To his surprise, they didn't go in the front door. He'd seen scenes on the telly of people trying to convince the bouncers to let them in, and he'd been looking forward to that—he was sure Nick was hot enough to get them in. But instead they ducked down an alley. There was another door there, and they lurked outside for a minute or two, Nick assuring them somebody was on their way, before they were let in. They wound their way through boxes of empty bottles and shelves of washing up liquid and paper towels before pushing through another door into the heat and noise of the club.

Harry stopped dead, needing a moment to adjust, and Henry ran into him from behind. "She's great, right?" Henry said in his ear before putting a hand on his shoulder and steering him forward into the crowd.

There were so many _people_ , all crammed together. The music was so loud conversation would be difficult—not that that was currently a problem for Harry—and most of the people were dancing. Harry wasn't a great dancer when he had a tail and he hoped they didn't try to make him do it with legs. At least they seemed to be starting out with drinks: Gillian had commandeered a table near the bar. Harry sat down, feeling shaky with exhilaration, and stared out into the crowd. 

He took a brief break to smile at Nick when Nick sat down next to him, though.

"That's Annie Mac," Nick said in Harry's ear, pointing up behind a bank of the black boxes that the music was coming from. "She's gonna tear this roof off."

Harry nodded like that made any kind of sense.

Nick and Gillian started a conversation about something, but Harry ignored them in favour of watching Annie Mac and listening to the music. She had big clunky headphones on and wild curly red hair; she looked like the kind of person Harry would like. There were different-coloured lights shining on her, changing from time to time, and sometimes she yelled something like "Hello Brighton!" and the crowd would scream back.

After a few minutes, Henry returned from the bar and passed out glasses to everyone. He finished with Harry's, giving him a grin and saying, "A Coke for young Master Styles."

Shaking her head, Aimee said, "Should we give him sugar? He'll be up all night."

Nick rolled his eyes, but Harry smiled. He took a sip from the straw, and it was good, sweet and fizzy, so he took a longer pull and turned his attention back to the music.

He'd liked this kind of music when he'd heard it from the boats or from the beach, but it was clear, now, that this was where it was meant to be played. Sometimes the bass was so loud Harry's heart would thump in time with it. Even as bad as he was at dancing, he could tell it was right for that, too, with the crowd moving together in the flashing lights. Humans got to have this _all the time_. There was great tension in the music—it would be leading up to something, he could see everyone waiting, and then this wave of sound would crash over them and they'd all start jumping to the beat.

Some indeterminate amount of time later, Henry tapped his shoulder and said, "Come on, let's dance."

Reflexively, Harry turned to look at Nick, but he simply raised his eyebrows and held his hand out palm-up: _feel free_ , Harry thought he meant. Gillian came with them too, leaving Aimee and Nick to hold the table.

The crowd was hot. Harry supposed he should have guessed that, but it still surprised him, how much warmer it was when he was actually among all those moving bodies. Henry had one hand and Gillian the other, and they worked their way through the crowd until they were up close to Annie Mac. She saw them and gave them a wave, which made Harry feel proper famous, though he knew it was because of Gillian and Henry and not him. 

He was slow to start moving, so Henry leaned over and said in his ear, "Do what I do." Harry could tell he was yelling, but he could hardly make out the words. He stared at Henry, trying to copy what he was doing, but it was hard: he felt like he had too many limbs and they all wanted to move a different way than Henry's, and somehow Henry was moving his hips separately from his chest and how did you even get your torso to _do_ that? And there was no water to push against, to move into a rhythm with your body. Harry had been wrong: he was even worse a dancer as a human than he'd expected.

Gillian leaned over to him next and said, "Relax."

Harry glared at her. How was he supposed to relax and move at the same time?

She watched him closely for another few seconds, until the music changed, and then she grabbed his wrist and started tapping the beat on it. He glared at her again—he was a singer, he didn't need any help finding the beat, thanks. She met his eyes, then looked at Henry.

Next thing Harry knew, he had Gillian tugging at his arm and Henry pushing his hip and his shoulder, hard enough to nearly knock him over. He looked between them, outraged, but they didn't seem to be bothered by that, continuing to push and pull him until suddenly he felt what they were trying to make him do. He heard them cheer faintly above the music as he settled into the beat with his whole body, not just his mind. Then they were all dancing together. He could tell, looking down, that he still wasn't as graceful or as fluid as they were, but it was fun.

He made it through a few more songs, beats blending into one another in an endless loop of wonderful music, and then there was a warm hand on his shoulder. Nick, come to dance with them. Harry grinned at him and made room in their little circle. He could see that some people in the crowd were pressing up close to dance together, and he tried to move closer to Nick, but Nick shifted so their circle rotated instead. Gillian grabbed one of Harry's hands again, and then Nick grabbed the other; Harry clutched his hand tight as they pushed and pulled him back and forth, less about dancing this time than just messing with him, he thought. Finally he tripped and fell, their laughing faces flashing in front of his eyes as he went down.

Annie Mac told the whole crowd Nick was there, later, and it made Harry feel proud of him, even though it wasn't anything to do with Harry, and he still wasn't sure if he could call Nick his anything yet. Nick even went up to play a couple of songs. Harry was all full up with happiness: this, this was what he'd been missing, without knowing he was missing it.

He was tired by the time he got back to the table. Gillian came back with him, and Aimee went out to dance with Henry and Nick, who'd joined them again after his songs. Harry slumped forward, face still turned to Annie Mac, and Gillian ran her hand up and down his back a few times, friendly-like. "He likes you, you know," she said.

He turned to her and traced 17 on the table.

She shrugged. "You won't be 17 forever, though."

He hadn't thought of that before. Maybe it wasn't the age gap; maybe it was his actual age, and Nick would be willing to do—something—once he got older. He smiled at her and mouthed _Thanks._ She looked surprised. Right; he hardly ever bothered to do that, since he knew he wasn't going to make a sound.

He turned his attention back to the dance floor and the music. He thought he would have fallen asleep if they'd been home—it was later than he was used to—but it was too entrancing, so he was left in an odd half-awake state, almost dreaming as he listened. Nick and Aimee and Henry finally came back, and Nick wrapped one arm around Harry's shoulders to help him walk to the car.

Harry scrounged for paper when they got home and painstakingly wrote, _Play more of that for me_ , then tore the sheet off and pressed it to Nick's chest.

"What, right now?" Nick said sceptically as Harry yawned.

Harry shook his head.

"Tomorrow, then?"

A nod.

"Cool. I'll figure something out." He hesitated in the doorway, and Harry thought he might—but he just smiled and said, "See you in the morning, kid."

* * *

* * *

Day 4

* * *

They went swimming the next morning.

Harry had been trying to avoid it. He knew they'd expect him to be a strong swimmer since he'd managed to rescue Nick in the dark. But, of course, he'd had a tail then, and could breathe underwater. Also, he didn't have a swimsuit, and he knew—even if he didn't understand it—that nude swimming wouldn't be acceptable. But Nick had started the day by throwing a pair of brightly-coloured swim trunks onto Harry's face, so he supposed he'd have to try.

The waves caught at his legs as he waded in. He'd never experienced that: he didn't generally go into shallow water with just the end of his tail, after all. He grabbed Aimee, who was nearest, and she nearly went over too. Harry looked at her pleadingly, trying to convey his apologies. Rolling her eyes, she said, "Oh God, don't do the big puppy-dog eyes! I forgive you, I forgive you!"

Once they got deeper, though, it felt familiar. Not on his legs, but he knew how water moved and how to move with it and within it. He swam under a few breakers and jumped a few more with the rest of them, until he noticed most of them giving him odd looks. He frowned and then raised an eyebrow.

"I can't believe I know what that meant," Nick said. Harry splashed him and Nick sputtered and looked offended. "Well, now I won't answer your question!" 

Grinning, Harry splashed him again. Nick had little tattoos on his arms that Harry wanted to get a better look at as long as Nick was shirtless, but he was having trouble deciding between that and simply having fun in the water. If things went to plan, of course, he'd get a better chance to look at them later, with less of an audience.

"You seem very comfortable in the water," Gillian said. "And since most of the time—don't splash me, please—you don't seem comfortable at all, we noticed."

The conversation paused while they jumped another wave, then Harry put his hands together and made a wavy motion across the top of the water.

"Yes, you're like a fish," Nick said. "Wow, I've been spending too much time with you."

Harry swam over and head-butted him gently in the shoulder, smiling.

Nick splashed him in the face.

Some of it got in his mouth, and—eugh! Was that what seawater tasted like to humans? He spit a few times, wiping his eyes, and when he looked back up Nick looked remorseful. "Uh, sorry," he said. "Didn't realise you'd, um."

"Don't apologise to him!" Henry said, scandalised. "He's going to dunk you anyway."

Oh, that was a good idea, actually.

By the time they made it back to shore, everyone was wiping salt out of their eyes and squeezing out their hair. Overall, a good swim, Harry thought.

* * *

Harry settled himself on the sofa as Nick did something with his phone. He usually liked to let Nick sit down first, because then Harry could sit close to him and make him cuddle, but he'd pointed Harry at the sofa and it might be rude to hover instead, Harry thought. At least Nick hadn't pointed at the chairs.

Nick left his phone and came to sit down, angled so he was facing Harry across the empty middle of the sofa. He watched Harry's face as—oh, as music started to fill the room. 

Harry grinned at him and Nick's mouth slid into a smile.

He'd known Nick must have good taste. He'd heard the music Nick had played as background, when they were on the beach or sitting outside or whatever, and he knew he liked it more than he'd liked any kind of music before. This wasn't quite the same stuff; he wanted to really listen to it, not just let it provide background to whatever conversation they were having. It had a nice beat and the singer was good (though not, Harry thought smugly, as good as he was—well, as good as he was when he had his voice, anyway). Harry moved his torso like he was dancing, watching Nick, and Nick laughed at him and tucked his long legs up on the sofa.

The next song was slower, and Harry closed his eyes and leaned his head back, simply listening for the next few songs. He loved music, always had, and he'd always loved human music in particular—but it was so hard to hear, distorted by distance, or heard through water when it wasn't meant to be like mer music was. Hearing it like this, as it was meant to be heard...

It was worth this whole week by itself.

Harry felt like he couldn't contain all the love that was in him right now, glowing right down to his fingertips. He opened his eyes and looked at Nick again, and Nick was watching him, looking very serious in a way he usually didn't, but not unhappy.

Harry crawled down the sofa until he could tuck himself under Nick's arm, and Nick took a breath and then stretched his legs out next to Harry's, rearranging them until they were half laying down, heads propped on the arm of the sofa. Harry squeezed him tighter; this felt as nice as anything he'd ever felt, Nick's warm body all next to his, and the soft sofa, and the music in the air. Nick's arm around his back, fingers curled up near the base of Harry's spine. Harry was surprised he couldn't see the love on his breath as he breathed out, that's how full he felt.

He pressed a kiss to the corner of Nick's jaw and Nick didn't pull away, or put a hand on his face and laugh, or any of the other things he'd done when Harry'd tried to kiss him before. Harry dared a little closer to his mouth, and Nick turned his face enough that he could look Harry right in the eyes. Harry watched him back, tracing the little flecks of colour, his pretty eyelashes, the dark blots of his pupils, and then Nick closed his eyes but Harry couldn't be disappointed because they were kissing.

If he'd thought being kissed would be different on land, it wasn't, at least not in any way that was important. Except he'd never felt about anyone the way he felt about Nick, so it was better, sweeter, especially after waiting so long. Nick's arm had tightened around his back, holding him in place, and Harry let his fingers run through Nick's hair, soft but tacky with the gooey stuff he put into it. He ran the backs of his fingers down Nick's cheek and kissed his lips and his nose and his cheekbones and his lips again, for a long time, loving every second. Gellz and Aimee came back and Harry didn't let Nick go so they kept kissing as the women went down the hall, as the music changed artists and moods, as the sun crept across the rug, until Nick's lips were red whenever Harry let them go and Harry felt so good he couldn't believe his body was his own.

"We should probably get our tea," Nick finally said in Harry's ear, quietly.

Harry nodded, sadly, and it must have shown on his face because Nick kissed him again for a few minutes before he finally sat up.

And that was terrible, but Harry still had to laugh soundlessly, making Nick's face do a funny thing where he looked offended and affectionate at the same time, until he pointed at Nick's hair which looked nothing like his usual carefully careless quiff. Nick laughed and blushed, for some reason, and said, "Go distract them while I fix—oh, no, wait, that's a bad idea," and dragged him to the bathroom and washed both their faces with cold water before they had to face the others.

* * *

While Patti Smith was very interesting—and made even more so by the fact that the book Harry was reading had been loaned to him by Nick—she still wasn't as interesting as Nick himself. So Harry divided his time between reading his book and watching Nick do something on his mobile. 

Nick was even more distracting because, somehow, Harry had managed to arrange things so they were both doing these activities _on Nick's bed_.

"Is that the kind of life you want, then?" Nick said. Harry looked over at him and Nick gestured at the book with one long-fingered hand.

Harry shrugged. He brought his hand up to his face like a microphone, like humans used, and mimed singing into it.

"You want to—" Nick said, voice higher than Harry was used to. "Oh, that's a microphone. You want to sing."

Harry gave him a thumbs up.

"And the rest of the stuff?"

Harry brought his thumb down so it was pointing horizontal.

"So, you're only so-so on the sex, drugs, and rock'n'roll, then."

After a moment of thought, he put his thumb up, down, up.

Nick cracked up. "Okay, noted."

Harry grinned and rolled up onto his side so he was facing Nick more fully. Nick shifted, too, mirroring him.

"How's your sister feel about that?"

Thumbs up.

"And your mum and dad?"

Still up, but not quite as far.

Nick sighed. "This sliding scale thing is more useful than nodding and shaking your head, but I still can't ask you why." He reached over and poked one of Harry's dimples, which made Harry feel warm all over. "Don't suppose you can give the vocal rest a rest?"

Sadly, Harry shook his head. He wanted to, for Nick, but it wasn't up to him.

"Okay. I mean, I know you take it seriously."

Harry nodded.

"Well, if you—you know, I never asked where you lived. Are you from around London?"

Harry shook his head.

"Which direction from here?"

Harry pointed northeast.

"Northwest, so...Newcastle?"

Harry frowned for a minute, realised he was turned around, and pointed again.

"Hey, I'm that way, too. Or I used to be. Manchester."

Harry made his hand look like it was talking.

"Right, the accent, you knew that. You too?"

Thumb pointing horizontal again. Kind of. It was the best he could do. Explaining "I grew up offshore from Liverpool" would've been hard enough even if he had full use of his voice.

"All right. Anyway, I live in London now, and I do some music...stuff."

Harry nodded. The DJing last night would have been enough to tell him, even without the little concert in the lounge earlier.

"You know who I am?" Nick said with a frown.

Harry frowned back. He wasn't sure how to answer that one.

"I mean, do you know what my job is?"

Harry shook his head again.

"Okay." Nick looked calmer. Harry wondered what that had been about. "Anyway. If you need, I don't know, advice or something...remind me tomorrow to give you my contact information, okay? I'm happy to help. Um, completely, like, platonically, apart from—" He waved his hand back and forth between them, which was apparently his gesture for 'really great above-the-waist makeout session.' Harry could sympathise. "Okay?"

Harry made an "OK" sign with his fingers.

"Great. Um, anyway, I think I'm going to go to sleep. Yeah?"

Harry rolled over and turned the light out.

"Um, I'm gonna—" Nick sat up. "Look, I know we—but you need to sleep on the sofa, okay?"

Rather than focusing on the way Nick's voice sounded then—soft and worried, but also disappointed—Harry nodded. He liked being by Nick, and also the sofa was comfy but Nick's bed was better. But if Nick didn't want him here...

"Please," Nick said.

Harry leaned over and pecked him on the cheek, and then rolled out of bed.

He still had three days, after all.

* * *

* * *

Day 5

* * *

Niall and Liam brought a salad for lunch. That was more like Harry's usual diet than any human food had been so far except fish. But it was still subtly different, the greens taking on different flavours, and the dressing was incredibly delicious. 

As Harry ate, he listened to the two of them spin a better cover story than Harry would have been able to come up with. He wondered it if it was Liam's work, or Niall's, or the two of them together. According to the conversation, they were friends from music camp, so of course they couldn't answer questions about Harry's school or most of his non-music life; they'd played folk music, but Harry had always wanted something more modern, he just didn't have much time to look into it with his folk music commitments; the music scene was one of the reasons they'd come down to Rye—they could get to Brighton for the occasional excursion, but their parents were less worried about them all on their own in a smaller town.

They also talked golf, which was good for diverting attention, since none of Nick's friends cared about it. Harry found himself wishing he could tell the story of the time Niall managed to get himself into a hollow in a deep water trap in a seaside course in Scotland. He'd amused himself by tossing the balls back up onto the green with his tail and then hiding in the shade of a ledge, to the confusion of the players.

Might not go over that well, though.

Harry eventually grabbed Nick's phone and held it out until Nick got the idea and started playing some music for them. He had two motives: he wanted them to hear it, but he also wanted them to ask Nick the questions he couldn't, and they didn't disappoint. Aimee and Gillian knew a lot too, and Henry knew some of the musicians personally even if he wasn't as well-versed in the music bits, and Harry spent a happy hour absorbing all the information he could. By the end, they were all sprawled in the lounge, and Harry had worked himself into position with his legs propped across across Nick's thighs and his head in Liam's lap. Liam was always good for running his hands through Harry's hair, and Nick felt pleasantly warm and solid under Harry's legs.

Harry was almost asleep by the time Nick said, "How about you sing us a few songs, then? Since we've been sharing our music with you."

Harry's eyes popped open. Shit! 

But Liam seemed to have things in hand. "Wouldn't be fair to Hazza," he said. "Since he can't participate and all."

Harry looked up and tried to convey his thanks with his eyes without it being obvious to the humans.

"He loves it that much, then?" Nick's arm had been resting against Harry's ankles for a while, but he started rubbing one hand soothingly across Harry's calf when he said that, which made Harry want to purr and melt into the sofa.

"He loves performing, yeah," Niall said.

"He could probably act, too, though," Liam said. "He likes being in front of a crowd. Don't you, Harry?"

Nick poked Harry's cheek where the dimples were, and Harry smiled to make them for him. "This face?" Nick said. "Can't hide any of his emotions. Better stick to music."

Harry stuck his tongue out, making Nick laugh. He'd sounded fond. Harry had been trying not to get his hopes up for the date tonight, but maybe it would go well after all.

Suddenly, Liam said, "Well, I guess we should be on our way." He was probably making way for Harry to hit on Nick some more. They'd already clandestinely passed him a piece of paper with information about the date they'd set up. 

"And I think I hear the beach calling me," Gillian said.

Liam slid out from under Harry's head, and then Nick, more gently, lifted his legs so he could stand up. Harry flopped flat on the sofa, feeling boneless and well cared for.

"Come on, kitten," Aimee said. "Time to get up."

 _Sex kitten,_ Harry thought smugly, and let himself be pulled upright.

* * *

They had another visitor later that afternoon. Well—a visitor maybe wasn't the right way to put it, since they were at the beach and swimming. An unwelcome extra person in their party, at least.

Harry'd agreed more readily to another ocean swim, and he was trying to subtly move behind Gillian to splash her when he heard a very familiar voice say, "I see you've acquired a fish." 

He went cold all over, and when he turned, there was Simon Cowell, floating out beyond Nick.

"Simon! I didn't expect to see you out here," Aimee said.

Harry blinked. What?

"Just for a day or two," Simon said. "I love Camber Sands."

"I meant in nature at all," Aimee said.

Simon ignored her. "I saw you swimming and thought I'd come say hello. Imagine my surprise when I saw Harry with you."

Without even looking, Harry knew the rest of his group were exchanging glances with each other. How did Simon know them? Did they know about mermaids, then? Could he have been open about his situation this whole time?

"How do you know young Harold?" Nick said.

"Oh, I've known his mother for a while," Simon said. "Always haring off on wild adventures, aren't you, Harry?"

For want of something better to do, Harry shrugged.

"Maybe he'll settle with maturity," Simon added, and Harry could have killed him. He was trying to seem _more_ adult!

"It's been nice having youthful blood around," Aimee said. "Better than a face mask."

"Mmm," Simon said. "Well, it's good to see you."

"You too, Simon," Henry said. "Enjoy your holiday." Harry couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not; he didn't know Henry well enough yet.

"Thank you." Simon turned in the water and started swimming off towards the beach. Soon enough he was close to shore, and then—

He had **legs**.

What the fuck?

"Man, I really hate him," Aimee said when he was out of earshot.

Aimee, Harry decided, was his favourite.

* * *

Liam and Niall had made a reservation for them at a restaurant near the road to the beach house. "So you can find it," Liam had said, as though Harry was going to get lost on his way through the town. Well, not when he had Nick with him, anyway. He'd had to ask Nick to drive them both, which also countered his attempt to seem adult, but they had no other way to get there, apart from a very long walk. Harry tangled his fingers with Nick's as they walked from the car to the restaurant. Instead of pulling away, Nick swung his hand and smiled fondly down at Harry, and Harry wished the walk was three times as long.

"This looks nice," Nick said as they sat down. From the outside, it hadn't looked like much, but inside it was quite nice, with sleek black chairs and interesting little tables. There was a candle in a little dish on top of their table; Harry'd already met candles in the dining room back at the house and this one was very pretty but he thought he shouldn't touch it. Nick leaned back and smiled at Harry. "I bet Niall picked it."

Harry stared at Nick in a panic.

Nick's mouth stretched wider, still friendly. "You could hardly phone them up for a reservation," he said. "It's okay. Honestly, it's very flattering to have a pack of teenage boys colluding to get me to sle—to go on a date with you." He turned red, and Harry smirked and picked up his menu. Maybe he hadn't fucked this up totally yet.

He frowned at the menu. He'd figured out what most of the basic human foods tasted like, he thought, but this menu was full of stuff he'd never heard of. What was a courgette? Guinea fowl? After a moment or two, Nick leaned over and gently pressed the paper down to the table. "I'm betting you haven't eaten at places like this very much."

Harry shook his head slowly.

"Okay. Great." Nick pointed. "So, they've got starters, which we can share, over here. And then the main courses here. Or we can buy, like, a whole meal here, where we get an appetiser and a main dish and dessert too if we want, but we have to choose from just those things." He pointed again at a different part of the page. "Do you have a preference? Pick stuff or go for the whole meal? The second one's easier if you don't know what a hot pot is or whatever. But I can always order for you, if you like."

Harry considered this. He wasn't sure what to do: he liked the idea of Nick ordering for him, but that didn't see very grown-up of him. Finally he pointed to the whole meal section.

"Right. Shall I describe what those are?"

Harry nodded.

"Okay." 

It was easy to listen attentively to Nick as he explained what the dishes were. He was always so animated and funny, lit from within by his good humour. Harry nodded along and then pointed decisively at the dishes he'd chosen, especially the creme brulee, which Nick had described in glowing terms.

"Do you want me to order for you anyway? Since you can't talk and all?"

Harry rolled his eyes at Nick, then nodded. Yes, sure, rub it in, Nicholas, he thought.

"I can hear you thinking unflattering things at me," Nick said. His eyes were all crinkly like he wanted to laugh.

Sighing theatrically, Harry closed his menu. He let his foot slide across the outside of Nick's ankle, but Nick only looked more amused. Harry huffed at him.

There was a brush of toes against the top of his foot—Nick must have slid his sandal off—and then a slow massage back down from his ankle to his toes. Once the touch was gone, Harry focused back on Nick's face to find him looking faintly embarrassed. "Sorry," he said. "I'm used to teaching you things but—that's not, um. Appropriate."

Harry stuck lip out at him, then grinned when Nick rolled his eyes. 

The waiter appeared from nowhere, which made Nick flush an even darker red. He didn't show his embarrassment otherwise, though, as he declined the wine list and ordered Perrier and food for them. The waiter didn't seem to think anything was weird about Nick ordering for both of them, and Harry liked the way it felt to have Nick taking care of him that way. 

"He probably thinks I've kidnapped you," Nick said when he'd left.

Harry raised his eyebrows, hoping his question was clear.

"Well, you're sitting there, like, not talking, as I order a bunch of food, and you're kind of...staring at me a bit like a creeper?"

Harry was so outraged he forgot he couldn't talk and opened his mouth to say something. He remembered and stopped himself a moment before he could show Nick he literally couldn't speak and tried to turn it into an expressive gesture with his hands.

"Not in a bad way," Nick said hastily. "Just very intense. Also, you're obviously way too good-looking for this to be a date."

Harry kicked him (gently).

"Yes, okay, ow," Nick said. "Oh God, what if they think I'm your dad?"

Harry scooted his chair closer and put his hand on Nick's thigh, on the side of the table closer to the wall because he wasn't _that_ much of an exhibitionist.

"I've changed me mind," Nick said nervously. "It's totally fine if they think I'm your dad. This is a very platonic supper, you know!" He sat back in his chair. It was a shame—Harry found his nervous word vomit very endearing, and feeling endeared made him feel like he wanted to be putting his hands down Nick's pants. "Even if you are looking at me like you'd like to eat me. I'm not on the menu, I'm afraid. This is...educational! Yes. I'm teaching you about appropriate etiquette on dates. Because...that is something I know about very well. For example, you probably shouldn't take teenagers with you on dates if you're ancient and twenty-six, like me. And you shouldn't talk too much. Shit, I'm a horrible example." Nick folded over so his head was touching the table, then hit it a few times with his forehead.

Harry reached over and tangled his fingers in Nick's hair. He didn't kiss him because they were in a restaurant and Nick looked freaked out, but he wanted to. Instead, he tugged Nick's head gently up and gave him what he hoped was a fond look. 

Luckily, it seemed to work: Nick cracked up. He leaned one elbow on the table and rested his head against his hand, looking at Harry. "See, this is why I need you to talk," he said. "I get on a roll and there's nobody to stop me."

Harry made a kissy face at him.

"God, no," Nick said. Harry frowned at him, so he continued, "Then they'll really think I kidnapped you." He looked at Harry consideringly. "You know, I can't believe we've thought of playing charades with you. I mean, the yelling stuff out bit wouldn't work that well, but I bet you'd be a champ at the acting."

Harry raised his eyebrows.

"You don't know charades?" At Harry's head shake, he said, "Well, I know what we're doing tomorrow. Also, I feel like I should write a strongly-worded note to your family about their lack of proper education in party games."

Harry shrugged.

"Yeah, I'm probably not going to be that popular anyway. The louche Londoner you abandoned your friends for." Nick looked down at his glass.

Harry reached across the table and put his hand on Nick's wrist. Nick looked up at him again, and Harry slowly shook his head. He'd had a week with Niall and Liam and Gemma before he'd come up onto land; so far it was the perfect vacation, except for his voice. Nick had wanted him to interrupt his word vomit, but now Harry wanted to reassure him. And he couldn't do it. So he rubbed his thumb along the inside of Nick's wrist and tried to convey it all with his eyes.

Once Nick looked calmer, Harry let his caring expression turn up into a huge grin and was rewarded with another guffaw from Nick.

"Okay, okay, no heavy stuff, I got it," Nick said. Harry sat back, satisfied. "Now what you're actually supposed to do on dates is talk about silly things and compliment the other person. Or at least that's what people tell me every time I do it wrong." Harry grinned at him. "So. You're lovely and very sweet and you've got hair like a Disney prince."

Harry nodded at him, hoping the thanks were clear. He put his hand on top of his head, fingers spread out, and waved it up and down a few times like he was fluffing his hair.

"You like my quiff?" Nod. "Aw, thanks." Nick smiled. "And that can't be all you liked, since I was, y'know, drowned rat the first time we met an' all." Harry didn't like to think about that—Nick almost drowning, Nick maybe dead if Harry hadn't been there to help him—and Nick must have seen it because he moved right along. "I love it when people compliment me, especially when I have to figure it out through cryptic gestures." After a moment of wondering, Harry decided he was teasing about Harry's communication abilities. "What else do you have?"

Harry made another kissy face at him.

"Okay," Nick said. He went a bit red across his nose and cheekbones. "You like the way I kiss. Good, that's...good. Anything else?"

Harry pantomimed his own laughter.

"I'm funny?"

Harry nodded.

"I'm funny! Great. You never know, do you. Might just be laughing to make me feel better."

Harry pointed at him and laughed.

"Or, yes, they might be laughing _at_ me, thanks for the reminder." 

Affectionately, Harry kicked Nick under the table again.

"And that is definitely _not_ now you play footsie. Really, Harry, you're making me question my abilities as a teacher." Harry kicked him again. "I can see this is a losing battle—oh good, here comes the food!"

The waiter went past them to the table two over and set down a couple of plates.

Nick slumped down, laughing and covering his face. Harry grinned at him long enough to make sure he saw it.

"This meal looks like it'll be delicious," Nick said, "but I'm starting to see a flaw in that the only thing we can do is talk, and, well." He gestured at Harry. "I'd say a nice walk down the beach would have worked, too, but I feel like you might've molested me..." 

Harry didn't take that personally. Or, at least, he didn't take it as an insult.

Walk on the beach, right. Harry pointed his middle and index fingers down so they were touching the table and folded the rest of his fingers into a fist. He then let his fingers move forward, alternating, like little legs walking, until he got over to Nick's hand and nudged it. Nick seemed to understand him and made a pair of finger-legs too. Harry started on a slow finger-walk around the table, and Nick joined him, like they were going for a walk on the beach with their hands.

Harry got back around to his plate and went over it. Next, they explored the cutlery, and then went mountain-climbing up the pretty glass candleholder. Nick pretended to fall down the side, and Harry actually got a jolt from that, like he was seeing Nick fall off the dock again. His finger-person ran down the side and Nick's jumped up and wiggled, like, _fooled you_. Harry's marched away in imitation of anger, and Nick's ran to catch up, bumped him companionably, and then went running off ahead of him so Harry gave chase. They were both snickering by that point—Nick out loud, Harry silently—and they must have got too enthusiastic because Harry bumped Nick's fork hard enough it nearly fell off the table, saved only by a quick grab from Nick's other hand.

The rest of the cutlery was saved by the actual arrival of the food.

* * *

When they came back in, Gillian asked gleefully, "Did he eat anything erotically?"

Harry turned bright red and Nick started laughing, which Harry guessed was answer enough.

"Disgustingly adorable," Henry said. His voice was slower than usual—they'd had a good start on the wine, then. Aimee wandered in from the kitchen and handed Harry a glass of cranberry juice and Nick a glass of red wine. Honestly, Harry'd taken a surreptitious taste of the wine when he was doing the dishes the day before, and he thought he had the better end of the deal. Nick sat down on the sofa and left his arm out like he was expecting Harry to cuddle up, so Harry took the invitation. It wasn't quite the post-meal makeout session he'd been hoping for, since the others were around, but he could be handsy when they weren't looking to make up for it.

"What are we watching?" Nick said. There was something paused on the screen.

"As if you can't tell," Henry said.

"Mean Girls," Aimee said. "Since we have our very own feral child at the moment."

Nick said, "She's not feral! She's just a little different."

Wow. Apparently all of Nick's friends could do the sceptical eyebrow thing, too.

Aimee flipped off the lights and started the film and—wow, yes, darkness was definitely Harry's friend. He settled one hand on Nick's thigh and tucked his head against Nick's shoulder, drinking his cranberry juice. He should probably wait for anything more aggressive until Nick didn't have liquids at hand. Besides, it was nice enough to sit here, feeling Nick's laughs echo through Harry's lungs and shake his head. In fact, it was so soothing that Harry only edged his hand up a few times before he got sleepy. He could listen to the film instead of watching, that would be fine, he thought, closing his eyes.

He woke up to the room still dark, the others gone and Nick looking at something on his phone. Harry yawned and sat up; Nick smiled at him. "Morning," he said cheerfully. 

It was clearly not morning. Harry glared at him.

"Everyone else headed out to a club, but I'm knackered, thought I'd stay in tonight," he continued. Harry felt a small ball of warmth collect in his chest: that sounded like a lie, like Nick wanted to be there with him. "You want to listen to some music or something?"

Harry did, so he settled in against Nick's shoulder and let Nick turn the music on. Nick's shoulder was too bony to be properly comfortable, he now realised after a couple of hours pressed against it, but it was still Nick, so. 

Some time later, Nick said, "And I think it's time for bed," startling Harry awake again. Or, he wasn't sure he'd been properly asleep—but definitely not fully awake.

Harry nodded.

"Night, then," Nick said, and kissed Harry's forehead before he went upstairs.

There was a little half bath down on this floor, just a toilet and a sink, enough for Harry's nighttime routine. He washed his face and brushed his teeth. Then he stripped down to his pants and posed in front of the mirror. They looked good; Niall and Liam had bought him black ones. (They'd told him they looked for green, the colour of his tail, but couldn't find anything.) He started to pick up his T-shirt and then hesitated and thought, why not?

He dumped his pyjamas back in the lounge and went up to Nick's room. The door was cracked, and he slipped inside. Nick was in the bed, on his phone again, with the bedside lamp on to give him light; he looked up as Harry came in, and the way he was looking made Harry bolder. He stepped forward.

"Let's get you a T-shirt, yeah, love?" Nick said, and stood up and went for the bureau.

Feeling suddenly exposed, Harry wrapped his arms around his chest. He hadn't thought he'd get knocked back. After tonight, after everything. He only had two days.

Nick cleared his throat. "Here," he said, holding out a shirt, soft and black with a man's face on it. "Try that."

Harry slipped it over his head. He wanted to say thanks, or anything else to cover the retreat he was about to make, but there was nothing he could do. He smiled, lopsided, and turned for the door.

"You can stay if you want," Nick said, sounding nervous. "Bed's comfier than the sofa."

Harry turned around and Nick was already climbing back under the covers. 

"No funny business, though. I've got my virtue to think of." 

As if Harry thought of any of this as funny business.

He joined Nick in the bed and watched him like people's photos. "Bit creepy," Nick said at one point, flicking his eyes over to Harry, and Harry took the opportunity to lean up and kiss him. Nick didn't let it get too deep, though, and Harry settled back into the pillows.

Just before they fell asleep, Nick said, "I don't, um, I don't like waking up alone if someone fell asleep with me? So can you stay until I get up?"

Harry ran his fingers through Nick's hair and hoped he didn't imagine that Nick turned into the touch. He nodded, and Nick smiled and turned off the light.

* * *

  
([original post](http://linvro.tumblr.com/post/160539789725))

* * *

Day 6

* * *

"Harry will tell you!" Nick said as Harry stumbled into the kitchen.

Sure, Harry'd been in bed when Nick woke up. Then Nick had left and Harry had accidentally fallen back asleep. Nick's hair was styled but the collar of his shirt was still damp, so he couldn't have been out of the shower long, but it still made Harry feel out of sorts to have accidentally slept in.

"Harry, in fact, cannot _tell_ me anything," Gillian said.

"I was the perfect gentleman when you stumbled into my room half-naked, wasn't I, Harry?"

 _More than half-naked,_ Harry thought to himself, disgruntled. He frowned and went searching through the fridge for orange juice.

"He must be telling the truth," Henry said. "Harry's not dancing all round the kitchen like Tinkerbell."

Gillian hummed thoughtfully. "All right, I will accept that."

Harry found the orange juice behind a pitcher of sangria and poured himself a glass before he settled down at the table. There was a big pile of toast in the centre, and he filched a few slices for himself.

"Any plans for the day, Harry?" Aimee said.

Harry shook his head. They should know that by now, he thought. He mostly did things with them, except for the date with Nick.

"Do you know what your friends are up to?" Gillian said. "We have this tradition of going out our last night on holiday, you know, and it's 18 and over, so unfortunately you can't come. We thought you could hang out here, and then go see them when we're ready to go out?"

Immediately Harry looked at Nick, who was focused on his own breakfast and didn't look at Harry. He looked angry, but that didn't make sense. Harry was suddenly angry too: why was Gillian telling him this, and not Nick? What about their last night together? Nick was supposed to be in love with him by now—Harry was definitely in love, really, truly in love, he was sure—and here he was going off with his friends instead of spending time with Harry. He looked at the others and they didn't exactly look happy, either, and Harry was not at all sure what was going on. After a long moment, he shrugged.

"Okay. Do you want one of us to call them for you and check?" Aimee said.

Harry shook his head. It would be fine. Niall and Liam had given him a key to their hotel room in case something happened.

"I guess that's a plan, then," Aimee said.

Henry and Aimee descended into gentle bickering about how much time they should spend at the beach vs day drinking in the house, and Harry ate toast angrily—which wasn't something he would have thought was possible—until they'd all left except Nick. Harry didn't think that was a coincidence. Nick sat silently for a while, and then he finally said, "What do you want to do with our last day, then?"

Even if Harry could still speak, it would have been hard to answer. Until this morning he would have said, _I want to lie on the sofa and kiss you all day, or maybe take you to the beach and kiss you there._ Now, he didn't even know. He shrugged and continued eating his toast.

"Lazy beach day or lazy lounge day?" Nick said.

Harry held up two fingers.

"Both?"

He nodded.

"Okay. Beach first, and then lounge, I think. Give me time to fix my hair before we go out."

And it was hard to stay mad at Nick, but it was also hard not to be sad, because this had to mean Nick didn't love Harry the way Harry loved him. So they swam, and they laid out on the beach, and after lunch Nick played him music in the lounge for hours, but when it came time for supper, Harry pointed to himself and then out the door.

Nick look surprised, but he nodded and waved from the kitchen. Harry grabbed the bag of his clothes before he went out the door for the long walk to Rye.

* * *

Whatever he was feeling must have shown on his face, because when Liam opened the door, he started hugging Harry even as he pulled him into the room, and Niall came around to hug him from behind as soon as he could. It helped to be sandwiched by two of his best friends, though it still felt like the world was ending. They pulled him onto the bed. He missed, suddenly, what it felt like to do this underwater: gentle currents around him, the unconscious twitching of their tails to keep them in place, the soft kelp they'd often rest against. He hadn't thought about it much for the last few days, too distracted by Nick and by humans and all he had to learn.

"Did you have a fight?" Liam asked, sometime later, and Harry shook his head. "Did he break up with you?" He shook his head again. They'd never even been together. Harry was sure of that now.

Niall, who always knew things but usually kept that to himself, said, "But you think he doesn't love you."

Harry pressed his face harder into Liam's chest.

"A week was too short," Liam said soothingly. Niall had started brushing Harry's hair back from his face, and that felt nice. But at the same time nothing felt right. Harry had definitely fallen in love with Nick this week; why couldn't Nick return it? 

"Did you have fun this week, pet?" Niall said.

Harry nodded.

"That's the important thing, Harry. You got to be human."

"And it'll be nice to go back," Liam said, with a soft sigh, and Harry felt abruptly guilty. He sat up so he could look at Liam, who gave him a sad puppy face and pulled him back to his chest. "No, I'm glad we got to try," he continued. "But I'm happy to go back, too. And I know it's earlier than you wanted, and maybe we wouldn't have picked Simon, but it'll mean a music career."

"Lou can handle Simon," Niall said. "He knows how." 

Harry looked at Niall and he nodded. 

"Of course they'll do it with us, Haz," he said. 

"They'd kill us if we didn't ask," Liam added.

He supposed that was true. 

He wriggled so they'd move away and flopped onto his back in the middle of the bed. They were still next to him, touching, but he wasn't quite so warm now. "I'm sorry, Harry," Liam said. "He seemed to really like you, and I know you really liked him."

Harry nodded and wiped his fingers below his watering eyes. Crying felt different on land, too. Niall and Liam were probably having a silent conversation above his head, but he liked having them close.

"Did you eat yet?" Liam asked.

Harry shook his head.

"Okay. Tea and then ice cream—you've had ice cream already, right?"

Harry shook his head again.

"That will definitely make you feel better," Niall said. "Supper, ice cream, and then you're going to have to sit there and listen to us talk about all the human shit we did this week. I know you were all cuddled up with your boy, but you missed out, I'm telling you."

That sounded like the perfect evening to Harry, if he couldn't have Nick. He put his hands out and made them pull him up from the bed so they could be on their way.

* * *

* * *

Day 7

* * *

The front door was unlocked, as it usually was during the day, and so Harry made his way inside and padded quietly up the stairs to Nick's bedroom.

As he'd expected, Nick was throwing clothes into his suitcase willy-nilly, the room still a riot of fabric and hair care products. Harry started collecting jewellery from the bureau and throwing it into a smaller bag. The room went quiet behind him, and he knew Nick had seen him.

"Hiya," Nick said softly. "Didn't think you'd come back."

Harry turned and gave him a smile over his shoulder. He kept clearing off the top of the bureau.

"You helping me pack, then?" Nick said, amused, closer to his usual self. "Or are you stealing my stuff from under my very nose?" Harry frowned, offended, and Nick laughed at him. "Right, right. You're very honourable."

Harry nodded decisively.

"Cool, cool."

A moment later there was the tinny sound of music from Nick's phone—another song Harry had never heard before. He smiled to himself as he moved on to the bureau drawers. He'd noticed that humans carted a lot more stuff around than he ever had; the most he'd ever brought with him on holiday would have fit in one of Aimee's smaller handbags. But, no clothing, fewer cosmetics and grooming products, no electronics... Nick had so much _stuff._

Oh. And some condom packets and some lube in this drawer, apparently. Harry had always been very interested in the kinds of films that showed those, on the occasions when he could see them through windows. He turned, holding them up, not able to keep the shit-eating grin off his face, and Nick looked briefly uncomfortable when he saw them before he started laughing. "Yeah, I didn't use them this week. Had to take care of you."

Harry raised one eyebrow and shook the strip of condoms.

"Yes, you made that very clear," Nick said.

Harry stuck out his tongue.

"Throw 'em in the bag." Nick rolled his eyes and went back to throwing shirts.

He just—he loved being in the same room as Nick, even when they weren't talking. The worst bit wasn't simply failing; it was that failing meant Nick didn't feel the same way about him. Harry chewed on his lip and finished clearing out the bureau.

Nick wasn't the last one done packing, thanks to Harry, and rather than let Nick go help the others, he grabbed Nick and dragged him onto the bed for one last cuddle.

"I had a really good week, you know," Nick said, rubbing his hand along Harry's arm.

Harry nodded against Nick's shoulder.

"You—oh god!" Nick said suddenly, and Harry drew back, eyes wide. Nick leaned over the side of the bed and went rummaging in the smallest bag. "I almost didn't—" He came back up with a notebook and a pen. "Here's my phone number," he said, scratching it down. "Call me if you're ever in London, okay?" He tore off the sheet of paper and handed it to Harry.

Harry nodded and put it carefully in his pocket. He'd never be in London, not after this, but he'd treasure it anyway. He had a couple of hours to memorise it; that should be enough.

Nick leaned back against the pillows and put his arm out—as close to asking for anything physical from Harry as he'd ever done. Harry happily snuggled back against his side, and Nick patted his arm and squeezed him. 

If Harry could talk, there were lots of questions he'd be asking Nick right now. How had his night at the club been? Did he miss Harry? Would he miss Harry, going forward, since Harry would be a mermaid after sunset tonight? But he couldn't say anything, so he leaned his head against Nick's and listened to the music until Aimee came to get him.

She was shocked to see him, too, he saw, but she recovered quickly. "Good to see you, Harry," she said. "Nick, the car's leaving in five whether you're in it or not."

"I'm ready," Nick said, gesturing expansively to his packed bags.

Aimee gave him a thumbs up and wandered off muttering about space in the boot. 

Five minutes wasn't enough time for anything, but Harry leaned over and gave Nick one good, solid kiss, full of everything he felt for him, and then sat up to help him start ferrying the bags down the stairs, pretending he couldn't still feel the hand that had slipped around his waist for the last few seconds of that kiss, or the way Nick had looked when he pulled away.

He gestured his goodbyes to Aimee and Gillian and Henry, and he stood on the pavement outside the house and waved the car off, and then he turned and headed to the beach to meet Niall and Liam before sunset.

* * *

  
([original post](http://linvro.tumblr.com/post/160539785660))

* * *

Weeks later

* * *

London was very different from Camber Sands, or even Brighton. 

Harry tried not to stand there gawking like he'd never seen a city before, even though he hadn't, not like this. He wanted to blend in, to belong. He'd been there two hours and he loved it already. 

Anyway, his handlers were moving him along quickly, so he didn't have time to gawk. He shared a look with Niall as they were hustled into another clothing shop. The last one had been declared unsuitable for the human pop stars Simon was determined to make them. 

This one seemed to have more promise. Caroline immediately moved between the racks, picking up shirts and jeans. Harry wandered over to a rack of shirts. Some of them reminded him of Nick, and he poked through them, looking for a favourite. "Try all of them," Caroline said as she passed by. "We've got to get you a whole wardrobe."

At least they'd figured out his sizing in the last shop. Harry took one of each of the shirts and then headed for the accessories, picking out belts and shoes. It was Caroline's job, but during the briefing they'd had at the beginning of the day, she'd told them she wanted them to maintain their own personalities, so she'd encouraged them to grab their own things, too. Zayn was looking at artsy ripped jackets across the shop, Harry could see, and Niall and Liam were completely ignoring the task in favour of tossing a beanbag back and forth in the open area in front of the dressing rooms. Louis was snapping some braces and looking like he'd seen Poseidon.

Honestly, Harry wasn't sure what Simon was thinking, wanting to handle all of them at once.

Eventually, Caroline shoved them all into dressing rooms (separate, after the debacle at the last shop) and instructed them to try on everything. It was a huge pile. Harry struck different poses as he came out with each different outfit until Caroline looked like she was about to scream (and then he did a few more). 

It would all be very fun if it was happening, say, a year in the future, and on his own terms. Not with the magic forcing him to sign. Not with Louis and Zayn looking so sad they hadn't got to join in the first time they were human. Not with the way his mum and Gemma and Robin had looked—

Anyway. It was fun, but it all felt a little fast.

"How are you enjoying things?" Harry said as they walked down the street. The next shop was, they'd been told, dedicated solely to shoes. Harry was realising that legs required a lot of care, although they did look good in jeans.

Louis bumped Harry's shoulder. "I keep seeing my mum crying," he said.

Harry bumped back so he didn't have to think about the sorrow in his own mum's face when she'd realised what he'd done. "Thanks for coming with us," he said. "Any time you want to leave, you should. You didn't make any bargains. You're not bound to us."

"Like I'd dare leave you alone," Louis scoffed. "You'd probably all end up dead."

"At least we wouldn't have set off the fire alarm last night."

"One of you would have thought of that," Louis said airily.

Niall wrapped his arms around both their necks and let himself be dragged along. Harry had always known he was bigger than Niall, but it was weird to feel it like this, when their feet had to be at exactly the same level. "Maybe," he said, "but we might not've tried to put it out with a towel."

"I didn't know they were flammable!" Louis said for about the fifteenth time.

Caroline looked over her shoulder at them, and Harry sped up, making Louis run funny and Niall have to actually walk instead of being dragged.

And it—it wasn't what he wanted, exactly. But it definitely wasn't bad.

* * *

Towards the end of the week, they ate lunch in a dining hall at a big department store. Paul said it was one way to get them used to crowds.

Harry was wearing one of his new shirts and the third-best pair of jeans. He'd noticed a couple of people looking at him and it was nice, actually, but also made him think about...other things.

He couldn't call Nick from the mobile they'd given him. Simon had been expressly prohibited from trying to get in touch with Nick, and he wasn't sure if they would check what numbers he'd dialled. But there must be some way to contact him. Harry kept thinking about it. 

In fact—Harry glanced around. Their handlers were all focused on Liam and Louis, who seemed to be doing something food-related that was attracting attention. Harry raised his eyebrows at Niall, who slid to the side to block a line of sight, and slipped off towards a different part of the hall. He kept his eyes open, watching, until he saw the perfect target: a young woman, but older than him, looking bored and tapping at her mobile, eyes scanning the people around her like she was waiting for someone. He turned off his mobile and walked up to her.

"Excuse me," he said.

She stared at him, hardly less bored-looking than before.

"My mobile's died and I'm trying to find my friends—could I borrow yours for a moment? I'll just step over there so it's quieter—you can keep an eye on me."

"Er—" 

She looked like she was about to say no, so Harry inched the smile up and added, "And I'll pay for the call, of course, I don't want to use up your minutes." He started to pull a five pound note out of his wallet.

"All right. But not too long."

"Thank you so much," Harry grinned and traded the cash for the mobile. He walked over to the side where there was a gap between food stations and dialled the number he'd worked so hard to memorise, praying he hadn't mixed up any of the numbers in the months since he'd last seen it written down.

It rang and rang and Harry felt like he'd never be able to breathe again, but then there was a click and Nick's unmistakable voice saying, "H'lo?"

"Hullo," Harry said, his palm sweaty against the back of the phone. "Is this Nick Grimshaw?"

"Uh, yeah," Nick said. "What can I do for you?"

"Hi. It's, um, Harry." When Nick didn't respond, he added, "Harry Styles. From the beach house?"

After a moment, Nick said, "Hiya, Harry," in a very quiet voice.

"I'm sorry I didn't call before," he said. "Things have been, um. Happening. But I'm in London now, so if you wanted to have coffee or something, we should do that."

"Yeah. Yes," Nick said. "Absolutely. When?"

"Um..." Shit, he couldn't be much longer or he'd be missed. "I'm staying in this hotel, the Holiday Inn near Oxford Circus? There's a Costa a bit down the street?"

"Yeah, I know it," Nick said.

"Can you do tomorrow morning? Only, I've got somewhere to be at 9, so like...7:30?"

"In the morning? Oh God."

Harry had missed that jokingly nervous tone. "Or we can do later," Harry said hastily. "Um. But I don't know when I'll be done, and I won't—this is someone else's phone, I'm kind of, like, grounded, but I wanted to see you. But I might not be done before it closes tomorrow, and I couldn't tell you, I don't know."

"You're grounded?" Nick said, sounding concerned. "Should we not meet? I don't want to get you in trouble."

"No, please."

"Okay," Nick said. "Here. It probably closes at 8, so I'll be there at 7, and you come by when you can. And if you can't, well, I'll suck it up and show up at 7:30 in the morning day after tomorrow. Okay?"

"Yeah," Harry said. He eyed the woman he'd borrowed the phone from, who was looking impatient. "I gotta go. Can't wait to see you."

"See you soon. Harry."

"Bye," Harry said, and rang off before he could say anything else he wanted to.

The woman snatched the phone out of his grip, and Harry said, "Thanks," and ducked into the loo to wash his hands. He walked back to the table, then, waving at the handlers as he came back—nothing to see here, just Harry taking his time in the loo, you know how he is. Louis, who'd apparently been forced to sit next to one of the handlers and not move, gave Harry a look that said he didn't believe it at all and Harry would be explaining later, but Harry merely slid back into his seat and stuffed a handful of chips dripping with vinegar into his mouth. He felt a little bad for the handlers, who were trying to help them all acclimate to human life without causing a huge scandal, but he was also glad there was somebody other than Liam trying to keep them all in line when so much of the world was unfamiliar. He didn't feel bad enough to think he wouldn't go see Nick, though.

* * *

It seemed they'd had an unusually well-behaved day, because they were left to their own devices after rehearsal the next day, with instructions to stay in or at least not wander too far. The Costa didn't count as "far", Harry was sure.

He spotted Nick right away, sitting at a table near the front window, easy to see. Nick had a second cup in front of him so Harry approached him instead of ordering first. When Nick saw him, he smiled around the rim of his coffee cup. He hadn't changed; Harry wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but it had only been a couple of months, so of course he didn't look any different. And Harry was relieved to realise that he still felt the same. Like he was happier knowing Nick was there, even though they hadn't said a word yet.

"Hi," Harry said, coming to a halt behind the chair.

"Hiya!" Nick said brightly. "Sit down. Don't worry, it's hot chocolate, I remember what happened last time you had coffee." His eyes didn't leave Harry.

"Maybe I like coffee now," Harry said. "You don't know."

Nick grinned. "The moon could turn to cheese and I'd still remember the distance you got spittin' that mouthful out."

"It was very surprising," Harry grumbled. He took a sip of the hot chocolate warily, just in case, and then a bigger sip when he realised how tasty it was. He licked some of the extra whipped cream off his top lip—Nick watched that, too—and reached for the spoon to get the rest of it out of the cup first. "What have you been up to?"

"Oh, you know," Nick said. "Talking nonsense on the radio."

"You didn't mention that before," Harry said. "Had to find out from an advert."

"Well, I thought—if you didn't know it would be kind of humiliating, wouldn't it? Like, oh, you're on the radio, sure I listen to the radio, but I've never heard of you."

"I didn't used to listen to the radio."

"I know that now." Nick was still smiling at him. Harry understood the feeling. "Didn't used to? You do now?"

"Yeah." Could hardly turn it off: Simon was giving them a crash course in pop music, and part of that involved listening to the radio on the way from place to place. Usually Capital, because Simon said they only needed to hear the most popular stuff, so it could sink into their brains. Harry would've rather listened to Radio 1, not only because of Nick, and that's what he usually did in the evenings. Falling asleep to Nick's voice in his ears was an attraction, too. "I listen to your show sometimes. It's great."

"I don't get to pick all the songs," Nick said. He hesitated, then reached for his bag and pulled out a CD. "Here—some stuff I thought you'd like. You might know some of 'em if you've been listening."

"Oh. Thank you." Harry resisted the urge to hug it to his chest; he put it on the table instead. "Don't let me forget that."

"Okay," Nick said. "How about you? What are you doing in London?"

"Oh, I um." Harry took another sip of his hot chocolate. He'd rehearsed this but he didn't love lying to Nick. "Me and Niall and Liam, we decided to try pop music? Like, as a boy band. With a couple of our mates from music camp."

Nick grinned at him. "Oh wow! So I'll get to hear you sing soon, then?"

"Dunno how long it will take," Harry said.

"You'll slip me a demo or something early, though, right?"

It was hard not to grin back at Nick when he was smiling at Harry like that. And he did want to give Nick a demo, if he could swing a copy. "Maybe, if you play your cards right," Harry said.

Nick laughed. Fuck, Harry had missed that. "See, I always knew you were thinking things like that," Nick said, pointing one long finger at him. "That smirk doesn't lie. And now I know."

"Now you know," Harry agreed, then nearly jumped out of his skin when something tapped on the window next to his head.

Zayn was smiling shyly through the window, and Louis was pointing at Nick and pulling faces. Harry nodded, and Louis gave him a thumbs up and then a "you're crazy" gesture before they kept walking.

"And that was Louis and Zayn," Harry said. "The other, er, members of the boy band."

"Which one was which?"

"Louis was doing the faces."

"Zayn's your front man, right?" Nick said. "Face like that."

Gently, Harry kicked him under the table.

"Hey, ow!" Nick said in faux pain—Harry could tell by the outrage in his voice. "You can talk now! No need to resort to physical violence!"

"It's not a need," Harry said. "Maybe I like kicking you."

Nick rolled his eyes. "It's very weird that you can speak to me now. Like. I feel like I know you really well, but also like you're an entirely different person."

"No," Harry said, feeling suddenly vulnerable. "Same me."

"Yeah," Nick said. "Yeah, it's the kind of stuff I thought you were thinking, anyway. But, like. In my head you spoke faster, and your voice wasn't as deep."

"So basically, you heard my voice exactly like yours?" Harry says. "Bit narcissistic, innit." He punctuated this with another slow sip of his hot chocolate.

"I'm not the stubborn one who refused to speak a single syllable for an entire week," Nick said.

"Gotta admire my dedication, though, right?" Harry said.

Even as Nick was agreeing, Harry started thinking what else he'd been dedicated to, and letting his eyes drop slowly to Nick's mouth.

Nick cleared his throat. "So," he said. "Um, is everything okay?"

Harry frowned at him. "Yeah?"

"Because you said you were grounded."

"Just like you," Harry said, nodding at Nick's cup.

Nick look confused for a brief moment before his eyebrows went way up and a laugh burst out of him. "Wow," Nick said. "When you were totally silent, I didn't have to listen to those _absolutely awful_ puns."

"They're good puns, thank you," Harry said haughtily. Nick had laughed, after all. 

"Anyway, don't distract me. You're grounded?"

"Oh. Yeah." Harry swirled the hot chocolate in his cup. It was thicker than water was, so the eddies behaved differently. He wondered if he'd forget that, if he lived on land long enough, or if it was in his brain forever. If he'd be on land long enough to find out. "Um, it's not really—grounded? But, like, the boys and I—well, we signed with Simon Cowell?"

Nick looked surprised. 

"Yeah, I know," Harry said. "And we're all kind of, not very used to the popstar thing? But we've decided to do that kind of music. So we're getting, like, a crash course in music and fashion and dancing and stuff, and there's not a lot of free time. Plus we're not all 18 yet, so they have to be careful minding us, I guess."

"Good luck to them," Nick said, smiling gently at Harry.

"It's probably going to get easier in a few weeks. So—I probably can't see you again for a while. But I wanted to do it now, if we could. And I'll call you again when I can."

"Yeah, absolutely." Nick smiled.

"And I know you've got lots of friends to keep you busy. How are Henry and Aimee and Gillian?"

Getting Nick to talk about his friends was always a good way to kill five or ten minutes, Harry had found, and what he really wanted was to sit and listen to Nick talk. It was weird for him too, now that he could talk, being able to interrupt or respond whenever he wanted.

He finally saw Nick off in a taxi, and then went home to turn on Nick's show and think about the future.

* * *

After that, Harry's days settled into something of a routine.

Rehearsals every morning. Afternoons were business: dancing (still hopeless), fashion (Harry loved it), individual vocal training, stuff to keep their voices in top condition, exposure to pop culture. Evenings, gym, then supper, then free time until they had to go to sleep. And once a week, despite what he'd intended when he walked out of their first meeting, Harry met up with Nick for coffee and hot chocolate. He thought he was being more successful at convincing Nick to date him, now that he could speak and show how mature he was.

He still missed his mum and Gemma. But, sometimes, it was hard to remember how much, like the first time they sang at a mall and people clapped (and what a noise that was!), or running down the street in Camden late at night one weekend, or when he stared at the curve of Nick's smile.

Maybe he could still get Nick to fall in love with him. It wasn't that long, now, until he would be eighteen, and that seemed to be the magic human number to make him an adult.

So, he took a long bath every once in a while to feel the water around him, and he sang, and he (barely) danced, and he talked to Nick, and it was everything he'd dreamed about and more, singing this kind of music, having this kind of career, with his boys around him and Nick to boot.

It was a surprise when he got called into Simon's office alone. 

Simon didn't look happy when he got there. Harry sat at one of the chairs in front of Simon's desk and waited. He'd seen this in films, occasionally, but he hadn't realised how intimidating it would be. Simon looked at him levelly and didn't speak for a long moment. Finally, he said, "You know, Harry, I'm not trying to be mean."

"Of course not," Harry said, though he wasn't at all sure about it.

"Lots of young mermaids and mermen come to me for this kind of help," he continued. "Not the thing you wanted—for love—that's rare, because of how it usually works out." He let the silence linger again for a moment, so Harry could really feel all the ways that his decision had been stupid, though he didn't regret it in the least. "But for exactly what you're doing right now. Working with music on land, with big crowds, with interesting music forms you don't hear when you're a mermaid, except when you're lurking near humans." He looked at Harry again, and yeah, all right, Harry had already had a reputation for that, long before any of this. "I'm not a bad man, Harry. I help people try to make their dreams come true."

Did Simon expect a response? His current silence had that kind of air to it. "I know," Harry said. "I'm grateful." Even if he wished this was happening a year or two from now.

"Well, I wonder about that," Simon said, "since it seems you've been meeting with Nick Grimshaw, despite what I explicitly told you."

Harry went cold.

"That's not what this is for, you know. I've put a lot of money into making you boys the kind of band that will be successful. I don't want you haring off on your own for love."

"I wouldn't," Harry said. "I wouldn't abandon my friends like that."

"Hmm," Simon said. "Maybe not. Still, I can't have anyone else thinking there's a way around our deal. It's bad for my business. And anyway, you know you won't get to stay permanently human even if you get him to fall in love with you now, right?"

It hadn't even crossed his mind that it would, but suddenly he can see—Nick falls in love with him, and then the band fails, and—

"That's right," Simon said. "There's nothing but heartbreak there, Harry. So will you stop seeing him?"

God, that was even worse.

His silence was taken for refusal, which, to be fair, it was. Simon sighed. "All right. I'm putting you on time out."

Harry frowned. What did that mean?

"Back to the ocean with you for a few weeks," Simon said. Harry stared at him in disbelief. "Don't worry, we'll make your apologies to Mr Grimshaw. I'm certain he'll understand why you don't want to risk your career over a brief summer fling."

"You can't—"

"Oh, I can," Simon said. He checked his watch. "Best get downstairs. There's a car waiting to take you to the water. Believe me, you don't want to be on land when you turn back into a mermaid at sunset."

Harry looked at the clock, too, and then he ran.

* * *

The driver dropped him off next to the Thames, downriver of London and at the back of some property that Simon probably owned, as the sun was about five minutes from dipping below the horizon. Harry could already feel it, like his legs were sticky, uncomfortable with being apart for long. Apparently the driver's instructions were specific, and Harry heard the car drive off as he walked down to the bank.

He'd left his clothes in the back seat—there had been a pair of swimming trunks waiting when Harry'd got inside, and he changed with the partition up. Easier to replace the trunks, he thought. He slipped into the water, hidden by tall grass, and kicked the trunks off. The sun was a thin crescent on the horizon, a bright blot bleeding red into the surrounding sky, and then—

It hurt just as much as he remembered.

The awkward moment when his lungs were changing and he could breathe neither air nor water. The crunching as the bones of his legs broke into vertebrae for his tail, and the the muscles and ligaments tore and reattached themselves, a sickening feeling. Disorienting, like he couldn't open his legs; it felt wrong for his hips to be in that orientation, stuck. The scales growing back in, dulling the sensation coming from the skin they covered. He'd sunk beneath the water by then and took a deep breath, letting the water fill his lungs again, and it was familiar. But not wanted.

He looked around through the murk with eyes adapted for water again. There was still no one near.

With a powerful kick, he skimmed off across the bottom of the riverbed, out towards the ocean, towards home.

* * *

Gemma was floating with Harry's head resting on her belly, the way they'd done when they were kids, when Anne came back to tell him Niall was onshore, waiting to talk to him.

Gemma shoved Harry off. He sank down and hit his tail on the rocks beneath them. "Ow," he said.

"It's not like you forgot how to swim," Gemma said. "Go talk to him."

Niall was on a houseboat. A few of the fishermen still remembered, and if you wanted to get a message from land to sea or vice versa, they were the ones you spoke to. Until he'd ended up on land himself, Harry had never thought to wonder what made the connection. Were they former mermen and mermaids? Or married to them?

Could you go the other way? Did they have a sibling or a child under the waves?

Harry pulled himself up so his forearms were resting on the railing, and it was only then, too late to chicken out, that he realised Niall wasn't alone.

"Hiya, Harry," Nick said. Harry waved, heart in his throat, and Nick chuckled. "That's what I get? A wave?"

"Hullo," Harry said.

Nick visibly steeled himself, then stood up and walked over to the railing. "So let's see if this is a trick you've played on Niall, or—" 

Harry knew what he was asking, and flicked his tail out behind him.

"That—that can't be real," Nick said, sounding choked.

Harry hauled himself up onto the railing. It wasn't comfortable, being out of the water when he was a mermaid, but he could handle it for short periods. "You can touch it if you want."

Nick let out a fairly hysterical laugh. "You're always trying to get me to touch it," he said. Harry ignored Niall cracking up in the background because Nick's hand was hovering close to his tail, and then—

Harry was used to people touching his tail, obviously. It was half his body; some of his earliest memories were Gemma or his mum holding onto his tail as he tried to swim away from them. But this was Nick, and he hadn't ever put his hands on Harry like this, not even that one glorious afternoon they'd spent kissing on the sofa.

"That first night," Nick said, stroking his hand down along Harry's scales. "When you saved me."

After a pause, Harry prompted, "Yeah."

"You were a mermaid."

"Yeah."

Nick took his hand back. "That's," he said. He bit his lip. "I don't know how to believe that, even though you're right there."

"Do you want to watch me swim?"

Nick nodded, so Harry pushed himself off the railing and swam right under the surface of the water for a little while. He finished by splashing some water up onto the boat, and then pulled himself up to the railing again.

"Does it seem more real now?"

"Not really," Nick said, "but I'm enjoying myself anyway."

"Glad to hear it," Harry said.

"Niall says Simon doesn't want you seeing me."

"He thinks I'll run away with you."

Niall said, "Because there's no history of that, obviously."

"Wouldn't leave you boys behind," Harry said.

"And I wouldn't take you," Nick said. "You're seventeen."

"Only till February."

Nick laughed and sat down on the other side of the railing, so Harry's face was above him instead of below. "Okay. I have to ask. Where's your dick?"

Harry grinned. "Retractable."

"And I'm going to listen to my headphones now!" Niall said loudly.

"This rule you have about me being seventeen is stupid, by the way," Harry said. "As a mermaid I'm already of age. And the age of consent is 16 on land."

"But think what Henry and Aimee would do to me."

Harry did think about that. "Yeah, okay. You kissed me, though."

"I shouldn't have," Nick said, pushing his hand through his quiff.

"Incorrect," Harry said. "You should be doing it all the time."

Nick let his head loll to the side. "I want to," he said quietly. "Nothing below the waist until you're eighteen. That's my final offer."

"I'll take it," Harry said.

Nick pushed up enough to let their lips press together. It seemed like he was going to keep it short, so Harry grabbed the back of his head and let his mouth fall open. Nick still pulled away sooner than Harry wanted, but at least he'd had the chance to taste him again.

"Is it weird to say you taste different?" Nick said. "Fishy."

Harry had never considered that. "Huh."

"Also pretty salty, but I assume that's the seawater."

"I wasn't looking for a review," Harry said, laughing.

"Right, right, sorry." Nick pushed his hand through his quiff again. "One sec." He sat up and looked over the side of the boat.

"Yes?" Harry said.

"Just reminding myself." Nick flopped back down to the deck. "Okay. So...if you stay a mermaid, though, I don't think we can make it work."

Harry nodded. "I'll, I don't know, I'll try to talk to Simon. Or get Louis to do it, he knows how to handle him."

"I will, too," Nick said. "Or I'll get Aimee to do it. Maybe if we all promise not to spirit you away somewhere—"

"Yeah."

Nick nodded to himself. "Okay. That's a plan. Also—Simon can do magic?"

Harry wrinkled his nose. "Right?"

"As if I needed another reason to think he was creepy," Nick said.

"Have you seen his tentacles yet?"

"He has— No!" Nick said, recoiling. "And I hope to never see them!"

Harry grinned. "Good choice."

"Lord, what is my life," Nick said, banging his head gently against the railing.

"Do you want to meet my mum?" Harry asked suddenly. "And my sister? I could go get them. It would take a little while, but—I don't know how long you can be here, or—"

"It's Saturday, I've got all day," Nick said. "I would love to meet them."

So Harry fetched his mum and his sister, and they got to meet Nick. And it was lovely to have them all together, but all Harry could think was how wrong it felt to have the railing between them, instead of being able to cuddle up, Harry tucked under Nick's arm, the way he was meant to be. He loved them all; he just didn't know how to have them.

* * *

Like he was a child again, Harry awoke the next morning and helped his mum braid her hair. She didn't wear it that way very much anymore, but it was still soothing to feel the strands between his fingers and to make something neat and tidy.

When it was done, she turned to look at him, sighed, and hugged him close. "You want to go back."

"Yeah," Harry said softly. He was going to cry before this conversation was done, he could tell.

"Well, I love having you here with me," she said. "But I love you, and I want the best for you. And the life you have on land...that seems good."

"It is," Harry said.

"And that Nick is very nice." She kissed the top of his head and then pulled back. "Though making a deal with Simon so you could meet him...I wish it had happened some other way."

"Me too."

She sighed and tucked some of his hair behind his ear. "Do you think you can make up with Simon and go back?"

"I don't know," Harry said. "Nick's going to talk to him, and Niall too. And I bet he'll come down to talk with me himself." He laughed ruefully. "I think he likes to watch me squirm."

"Probably." Anne smiled at him. "You give him a lot of opportunities."

"I'll work on it."

"You'd best." She hesitated in a way that made Harry think she wasn't sure she should say the next thing, but then she continued, "You know you can always choose, my love."

Harry blinked at her. "Choose?"

"To be human."

"I thought that was a myth," he said.

"No. You can decide to be human. But it's not like Simon's magic. If you do that, you can never come back."

Harry thought about that.

"Of course, your apology might work," Anne said. "I know you want to keep seeing Nick, but maybe you two could work something out." She hugged him close to her side. "I'd love to keep you here forever, but I know that's not what you want, and it's not what's best for you, either. Though I wish we'd had a little longer."

And when she put it that way, Harry knew she was right.

* * *

Harry knocked on the door.

There was a scrabble of claws on the floor, and Harry could hear Nick saying, "Down, Thurston, it's just the post or sommat," as he came to the door. Harry straightened up and hoped he looked presentable. He'd only been human again for a few hours, after all.

"Stay back," Nick was saying as he opened the door, so Harry had a half-second to look at him and smile before Nick realised who he was. His mouth went slack with surprise and his eyebrows shot for his hairline. But he recovered quickly, still keeping the dog back with one leg, and said, "Hiya, Harry."

"Hi, Nick," Harry said.

"You've got legs again."

"I know."

"Does that mean you're, um, staying up here?"

"Yeah," Harry said. Nick had stopped looking quite so surprised. "And Simon says we can, like, see each other. Obviously. I guess. I had to promise I wouldn't leave the band for—um, longer than we originally agreed on, but I was probably going to stay with it anyway."

"Good, that's good. Yeah." Nick swallowed. "Glad it worked. I see Thurston remembers you."

"Hello, Thurston," Harry said to the dog. He tried to get to him, tail wagging, and Nick pushed him back firmly. "Who's a good dog?"

"He is! He's also very stocky. Um—"

Nick looked like he wanted to close the door to keep him in, but then they'd be separated again, and Harry wanted—not that. "Can I come in? We could, like, lay down on your sofa and listen to music or something."

Nick licked his lips. "Yeah, we could do—that. I'm not busy."

"Cool," Harry said.

"Cool."

He gave it a good two seconds for their smiles to grow, and then Harry stepped forward to kiss him, and Nick let him in.

* * *

  
([original post]())

  



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